Dealings on the Smuggler's Moon
by solsixtus
Summary: A dangerous web of deceit, crime, and evil await them as Kit Fisto and Aayla Secura pose as smugglers on Nar Shaddaa to investigate a mind-controlling drug targeting Jedi.
1. Playing Games

A/n: This story has an **M** rating for "objectionable elements," including but not limited to killings, nightclubs, and strong and suggestive language.

* * *

**Playing games**

Coruscant stank; with an ever-present acrid fetor that clung to the soft palate in the back of one's mouth. The Glittering City did its utmost to be a corusca gem, a jewel whose center glowed in the light to give the appearance of a furnace.

If Mero were to believe this rotating ball of filth and all things foul lived up to its namesake, then its furnace would burn in the dark bowels of the planet; infinitely consuming the rungs of the social ladder as another is added on top of it. It spewed out the slag and stench as a reminder one was inevitably next if he didn't climb up fast enough.

He was luckily enough to climb up; to the very top. He, a twilighter born under the artificial lights of trashy cantinas and run-down apartments, had climbed up to the planet's bright surface. But today, when he was supposed to take a left at Ampion Street to get to Fyrefan Way, he had decided to go on Vos Gesal; a slight detour that would still get him to his destination. Master Sahn would tell him it was foolish, though.

_But_, Mero thought, _Master Sahn didn't live the first five years of his life on this street._

If he could survive for five years, surely now, nine years later he had a better chance to survive five minutes?It was curiosity that made him alter his route. What would he be doing now if Sahn hadn't found him a lifetime ago? When he passed a connecting street, he saw the answer. If there were two sides to a credit chip, then there were two sides to a blaster and he admitted shamefully in his mind that he would have been the one pulling the trigger.

"Outta my way, human."

A Gran shoved him to the side as he dozed himself though. The three-eyed alien barely gave him a glance as he shoved passed. Mero knew he was at fault for walking too slow. The shady inhabitants of these odorous slums made their way across crowded and narrow streets quickly; no one wanted to increase their already elevated chances of death in the lawless Undercity sprawl. Still, he preferred to brush against the shoulders and probing appendages of strangers than be alone in the dark alleys twisting and veering off the main promenade.

Mero tried his best to amalgamate himself amongst the cloaked and shielded faces, but the tawny earth tones of his hooded robe only earned him foul glares from those who recognized his plain attire and their expressions were clear.

_Jedi weren't welcome here._

He was grateful though for the occasional curt nod, a simple acknowledgement from an unfortunate denizen that his presence there gave them an ounce of hope amid their miserable demise pressed upon them; appreciation for keeping their children safe in the malicious underworld. It was all a plain-looking woman could offer: a tired smile as she tightly held her son's hand before disappearing into an alley. She was also a reminder of what he escaped nine years ago, when he was wandering these same streets alone, without a mother grasping his hand nor a lightsaber attached to his belt.

Head down in reverie, he continued his jaunt along the street, remembering the promise to himself that he'd bestow the same opportunity to someone else that Master Sahn did to him.

"Watch it, kid."

Hardly turning his head at being pushed again, Mero muttered a half-hearted apology

The Bith snarled, grabbing the back of his clothes and turned him around. "I'd watch myself, boy, if-" He squelched his threat as the he noticed the boy's robes.

Mero suppressed a smirk that threatened to appear, knowing the alien probably wouldn't risk a fight with a Jedi, even if he was a padawan.

He was right and _lucky_, as the alien pushed him to the ground in disgust and walked away.

"Yeah I'd watch myself too, Bug-eyes," the boy muttered, although the Bith's back was already lost in the crowd. He got up from the street, dusting his pants, and struck yet _another_ passerby with his elbow.

He groaned. He did _not_ want a repeat of earlier and quickly turned around to offer a sincere apology to his victim, a small boy who had the unlucky fortune of being eye-level with his elbow and rubbed his eyes that threatened to spill tears.

_Blast!_

Frantically, Mero glanced for any witnesses, particularly, someone down here with animosity towards Jedi; easily anyone on that street. The truth could have been twisted, and no sooner would the lies spill off of deceiving lips, than a mob would appear with false compassion bellowing that he had hurt the boy.

"Shh...I'm sorry, kid, don't cry," he consoled, "C'mon, don't cry."

He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small sable orb.

"Here, look," he said, placing it in his palm and using the Force to make it tumble and free-wheel through the air. The ploy worked and it drew the child's full attention.

Holding the orb out, he told the boy, "You can have it."

At first eager, the young boy's arm outstretched to grab the orb wavered in hesitation, and he eyed the older boy skeptically. The adult-like wariness in a child so young didn't faze the padawan, for he, too, harbored anger at the many times he had been deceived by an ornery thug whose only intent was to get entertainment from his pain.

"No, it's alright," he reassured and used the Force to make the orb float in front of him. "Here."

The child greedily snatched it from the air and examined his prize.

_You're welcome, _Mero thought.

Really, he'd been meaning to give it to a child who was Force-sensitive, just like Master Sahn had, but the kid wasn't so bad. Master Yoda always said the Force worked in mysterious ways, and when he studied the boy, he couldn't place why he looked vaguely familiar. It wasn't until the child began to amble away that he remembered. It was the same kid he saw earlier with that woman. The woman who was now nowhere in sight.

"Hey. Did you lose your mom?"

Shaking his head, the child pointed back to the alley in the distance. Mero remembered how tightly the woman held the child and knew she probably wouldn't let this young boy, wander through the streets alone, especially in this district. The kid was very lucky nothing had already happened to him.

"Does she know where you are?"

The boy looked uncomfortable for a moment. "She's talking to the ghost man," he answered.

Ghost man? That didn't sound right. At all. The child's eerie misinterpretation could have been any number of things: spice-dealer, bounty hunter, or a thug. Any one was bad for both the boy and his mother.

"What was the ghost man doing?" Mero asked the boy.

"He was hiding. Mommy didn't see him first, but I did."

"Wait, hidi-"

Something clicked in his mind. Maybe _this_ was what Master Yoda was talking about. The Force wanted him to protect this boy or his mother or something.

"Uh, I'm going to bring you back to your mom, okay? You can show her what I gave you."

The child smiled at the orb his dirt encrusted fingers were tightly wrapped around.

"Okay."

Careful to keep the child in front of him, so as not to lose him on the street, Mero walked the boy back to the alley.

-/-

_In the shadows, he hid, like a creature on the hunt. The pallor of his complexion worked its magic and granted him near invisibility in the partial darkness; a trick of the light. _

_The drug had worked just as he had imagined on the destitute woman, but it was far too easy; he wanted a _challenge._ The vagrant was insignificant and useless to him, no Force-sensitivity of any kind or even any purpose to her shambled life. She did not have the barriers a trained mind had, and his pleasure in taking her mind was short-lived, like her offspring._

_He had sent the child to the streets; he was even more useless than his mother. The boy wouldn't last long down here for five minutes on his own. No one had the time or compassion to care for the child; not down here in this sector._

_But he had to be patient, he reminded himself. Seeking out a Jedi would draw unwanted attention too soon. No, he would wait and use the drug when an opportunity presented itself. _

_Already, he felt another presence approaching._

-/-

The first thing he disliked about Weeguk Street was that it was dimly lit; typical of the Lower levels, but this street seemed to end in darkness, and only three streetlights together with a violet flickering sign of a closed cantina kept it from doing so. Whilst keeping a firm grasp on the boy's shoulder, Mero had his lightsaber was ready in his hand, ready to be used as a light source and a weapon.

He did his best to remain in the light, even if it meant sacrificing what eyesight he could muster. Already, his eyes were beginning to conjure up false shapes and when his heart leapt at the still form of a rusty gonk droid, he forced himself to reach out with the Force, only to become aware of the second thing he disliked. Weeguk was startling cool, an anomaly when one is familiar with the humid air of the lower levels. With the smell, Mero always felt like trash was baking in an oven and someone had opened it up to fuel every living thing down here, but now, in the Force, nothing moved or quivered or emanated; it was just_ still_.

He heard footsteps before he saw anyone.

"Hello?"

_The Ghost Man. He was hiding, _the boy had told him.

Then he saw him. Black hair twisted off his head to frame his death mask, pale and sneering. Mero thumbed the activation button of his saber, ready to attack. Then the Ghost Man walked into the light and he saw it was just the boy's mother.

_Force, that was close._

Mustering a polite greeting befitting of Master Kenobi, he smiled at her and began his explanation.

"Ma'am, I found your son walking by himself, and I accidentally ran into him. I thought I'd try and..."

He paused when the woman had come closer and a cold feeling in his stomach formed when he saw her eyes, large and unblinking like a doll's, missing the light behind them that gave them life.

The boy whimpered at the sight of his mother, his eyes tracing the ebony veins that snaked across the left side of her face, and clutched the side of Mero's pant leg. Instinctively, he moved the child behind him.

"Ma'am?"

He was unsure how to approach the unresponsive woman. Perhaps she was on a spice high, certainly not uncommon in this Sector. Many sentinents, homeless or otherwise, turned to spice to cope with their miserable lives.

"Ma'am?" he tried again, starting to get worried when she continued to move closer to them. His grip tightened on his lightsaber, and he hoped he wouldn't have to use it on her, especially with the boy behind him. Then she stopped five feet in front of them and locked eyes with him. Mero stared back, unsure what to do.

In the stillness of the Force, a presence, oily and black, oozed into his senses. It was overwhelmingly suffocating and dizzyingly powerful, unknotting the pit in his stomach and making it churn with unease and malaise. His eyes darted around, looking from shadow to shadow, trying to distinguish the source of the darkness he knew did not emanate from the woman.

-/-

_Lurking in the darkness, he waited for his opportunity to pounce on his unsuspecting prey._

_By the will of the Force, a perfect subject had walked right to him; a padawan, one with a trained mind, yet one still young and unconditioned and in him, he sensed the growing seed of fear. _

_He allowed his own dark presence to reach the boy's acuity to make that fear flourish._

_The boy's gray eyes locked with his and for a brief moment, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to experience, jolted though him; panic. He quickly banished the weak emotion, angry for making himself as vulnerable as the boy. He was foolish to think his mirage had failed. _

_A sneer pulled at his sable lips. _

_No, it would be the Jedi to be prone, not him._

-/-

"Thank-you. Mykl is always running off," the woman answered.

Mero wanted to believe her so that he could leave the boy and return to the false safety of the smelly, warm streets, but he was spell-bound. Her hollow, distonal voice made the hair on his neck stand, and her stiff and faltering smile never reached her eyes that went unblinking for too long.

A plume of steam erupted with a hiss from a sewer vent next to him, making both he and the boy jump.

"It's okay, just stay behind me," he whispered reassuringly the boy, concluding in his mind that he would defend him from his mother if need be. There was something so very wrong about everything in that alley, and yet, he could not sense the danger most imminent to him, not until he was in the midst of it and tiny granules blasted into his face as if coming from the phantom gust of a desert planet's prevailing winds.

Instantly, he was blinded as the foreign sand irritated and inflamed his eyes like harsh chemicals of an indoor pool. He tried to brush it off his skin, but it burned into the tissue, leaving ugly black splotches. And when he breathed, it was hell. The inferno spread from his nostrils, to the back of his eyes and throat, and down to the pit of his stomach, so that when he drew in a ragged, fiery breath, he retched out the molten contents of former meals.

The draining ordeal dropped him to his knees, his vision blurred by nausea and heat. He thought he saw the boy, petrified and shifting in and out of focus.

"Run, kid. Get out of here," he mumbled. He wanted to, was _supposed_ to say more, but the urgency seemed to lessen. His mind, his feelings, were losing their intensity.

_No._ He gathered his thoughts, forced his feelings to build, and wrapped his hand around his lightsaber once more. It was difficult to ignore the pain, but he inhaled the tangy air and clung to the stark atmosphere as his anchor to gather his scattering thoughts.

Reaching out with the Force once more, he took comfort in its familiarity as it flowed through his fingertips and every fiber of his being. He was not to be soothed, however, as the dark and slippery ripple from earlier oozed into his senses again.

Then, sharp and sudden, a presence pressing at his mind, like cold fingers dipped into ice and pressed against the back of his skull. He tried to retreat his thoughts into the recesses of his mind, and steel it with the Force.

_**Don't resist. The pain will be over soon.**_

Mero shivered despite the heatstorm in his body. The presence pervaded, its icy grasp digging deeper at his defense until it breached, touching his memories, his thoughts. It knew his name now.

_**Mero.**_

_No!_

_**Mero**_**.**

The burn in his chest started to subside and the barriers in his mind seemed to melt against his will. The presence grew stronger.

_**Let me take over.**_

_Why?_ he panted, clutching his head. Another burn formed in his chest, one born of fear, despair, and mounting panic.

_**So there can be no more pain. Only peace. Calm yourself.**_

Mero knew he couldn't hold out against this powerful mental assault for much longer. Desperately, he called out to his master through their bond, hoping he was nearby.

_**Peace is a lie.**_

His concentration broken, the presence consumed him.

_**Stand up.**_

Mero obeyed.

_**Good boy, Mero. Now, the woman in front of you, she did not listen like you did. Kill her.**_

A single slash of his light saber was sufficient to fulfill the Voice's wishes. He looked down at the dead woman lying at his feet, her obsidian eyes as dead and lifeless as his.

_**And the boy also.**_

Mero did what the Voice commanded. The empty, hollow orbs slid in their sockets to the location of strangled sobs and he quickly moved to silence them.

-/-

_The caustic stench of seared flesh from the crumpled forms of the woman and her child snaked down the alley, reaching his senses, like the smooth, onyx orb that had found its way to him._

_He relished in his victory, however small it was, but his twisted celebration was cut short by a quivering surge in the Force, a presence that had brushed his mind when the boy pathetically called out to his master._

Sahn._ Yes, that was the presence's name; he had learned it from the boy's mind. _

_Sahn would be arriving soon, and he did not have enough resources to control him. He was only here to test, not attack. But if he did nothing, more Jedi would come to investigate._

_Let them see what he is capable of doing._

_He melted back into the shadows before the Jedi caught glimpse of him._

Perhaps next time, Sahn.

_As he retreated, he thought of what would come next after this test. More Jedi would fall from the blade of his mind. The test had been perfect. He will convey to his master the success of Dust. _

* * *

Rarely they used these rooms anymore.

Since the War started, all their intended occupants were too important, or too elusive for these interrogation rooms, and so the vacancies remained high. But this room's occupant was _not_ a misguided former Master of these halls, a rebuilt warmonger, or deserting Senator, and so he did not need the elaborate holding cells reserved for the latter. Energy binders would suffice in holding this _smuggler_, Jek Lux, who even as he sits smugly in the metal chair, is unimportant when compared to those goals of occupants.

"The last one couldn't do the job so they send me another one, eh?"

Kit stepped in quietly, ignoring the human's question.

"Is this a test for Jedi graduation?" the smuggler prodded. "Are you gonna cross-your arms and try to guess what I'm thinking too?"

The Nautolan crossed his arms in reply.

"Heh." Lux leaned back in his chair. "I'll make it easy for you then: _annoyance,_ _anger_..." the male trailed off.

"Those aren't thoughts; they're emotions," the Jedi corrected. "And I don't need to guess."

He didn't. The human's pheromones filled the room up enough to create an atmosphere that was already beginning to alter his mood.

In annoyance, Lux's tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. "So what am I here for then?"

"Take a guess."

The man's face contorted, and a blast of anger bombarded his tendrils. "I'm not playing your game, Jedi. You just want me to incriminate myself. Because _you_ don't know."

Kit remained stoic even though the smuggler's anger scent was foul. "I don't have time for games and neither do you. Tell me about the spice in your ship."

He asked it plainly, without any Force persuasion. Kit felt everyone deserved a chance, and a warning.

"That's what this is about? Some Glitter and death sticks on my ship?"

Jek Lux feigned surprise; Kit knew, because he detected fear emanating off the human and sensed an obscure thought repeating in his slightly guarded mind.

"Why don't you go a couple blocks down the street, " Lux continued. "Talk to the dealers on the streets or the patrons in the cantinas. I guarantee they're as guilty as I am."

"I have no doubt," Kit agreed, as he was quite aware of what went on outside the Temple walls, and unfortunately, must also turn a blind eye to. The war has led the galaxy's self-sworn defenders of peace and justice to focus on more pressing matters than spice runners and smugglers.

"So what then? Do you have to meet your political quota? A smuggler a week to show the Senate you're actually doing something?"

For a second, Kit was distracted from the interrogation and caught off guard by the man's words. Jek Lux was clever and quick, probably the reason for his success as a criminal, but also the reason he was sitting in this room. He liked to talk, and _hear_ himself talk. He was good with words, but lacked the ability to judge when he should stop.

Lux smirked again when Kit didn't immediately answer.

It was exactly what Kit had planned, goading the smuggler until he believed himself ahead of the interrogation. He gave Lux's chair a small nudge through the Force, making it tilt backwards an inch; an intentional tactic, as the chair had one short leg so that its sitter can never be quite comfortable.

The slight unbalance caused his smirk to falter.

Kit pressed his advantage now and activated the holoprojecter in the center of the table. As graphic images flashed at the smuggler, he focused intently on Lux's reactions. Underneath the main emotion of confusion, he sensed deeper conflicting ones.

"What is this?"

"The woman and child you helped kill."

Fear and alarm scents spiked, bombarding his tendrils again.

Pushing himself back from the table, Lux held up his bound hands to claim his innocence. "I didn't kill them."

"Look closer," Kit said tersely.

Lux leaned in closer, a morbid curiosity holding him. "Blasters and vibroblades don't make those kinda wounds. Nope, something else cut them up real good."

Kit snapped off the holoprojecter, disgusted at Lux's uncaring and blasé attitude of the dead.

"Tell me about the spice now," he commanded, an emotion dangerously similar to anger edging his voice. He knew he shouldn't have allowed his feelings to surface so easily and so quickly, but this _criminal_ didn't care about their deaths. He didn't care that even after they were silenced, their screams still echo in the Force.

"Wh-"

"The substance that's on your ship; what you claimed could give someone an edge over a Jedi," he interrupted before Lux could form his question. "The same substance all over that woman and her son."

He tried to intercept and catch the stray thoughts and fleeting bits that unguardedly floated in Lux's mind, finding only hints of illusive information.

"Tell me about _Dust_," he concluded, finally grasping the repeated thought in Lux's mind.

"No..." The smuggler's facade finally broke, becoming an amalgam of fear and unbelief.

"Don't make me look for the answer." Kit gritted his teeth, disliking his ultimatum. He very much disliked pervading the minds of others. Not only was it a horrible ordeal for him and his victim, but he also risked destroying their mind.

But Lux's face hardened again, and Kit was left with no other choice.

He exhaled heavily. When it came to telepathy, he was not as skilled as Masters Tiin or Plo, but since both masters were away on battlegrounds, he was the Temple's next best. Still, he would have to work fast or risk making Lux suffer a fate no person, even a criminal should endure.

It took immense concentration for one to enter another's mind; Kit found the invasive process the same, but each mind was different. Depending on the situation, some people had naturally higher defences. Usually it was people who were deliberate with their actions. Some had their minds completely open; unaware or uncaring that their thoughts floated freely, and some, like Jek Lux, were fully aware of the impending assault of their thoughts.

Kit brushed against Lux's mind, making his presence known.

**Tell me about Dust.**

_No._

Lux knew he was there, but had enough will to resist him. So he pushed harder, and broke past the mental barrier. He repeated the question and answers willing came to him; _the crates in his ship, small black sand-like dunes inside them, faceless people using it._

"It's a new spice," Lux breathed out between pants and gritted teeth, narrating the images Kit saw. "Created to... control people. Control Jedi."

"How? Who is making it?" Kit asked, relenting slightly from Lux's mind. He gave him time to recover, but Lux shook his head as if the action would physically withdraw him from his mind.

"No. No more."

He probed again, pushing farther than he did last time, and repeated his questions. The human began to physically writhe in his chair, fists clenched and perspiration pooling heavily on his forehead. Kit searched deeper in Lux's mind, to the level where ideas and memories lay.

There formed faces of people he didn't recognize;_ a blue twi'lek dancing like water, an angry zabrak, a sneering twi'lek male. _Past actions; _sitting at a booth in a dark cantina, interested faces sliding over credits on the table, a group of males snorting the black spice, blackened skin._

There was more, but Kit felt that was all Lux could endure. He was boring his whitened knuckles into his skull to stop the intrusion, head down on the table, sobbing broken answers Kit had already stolen.

He finally withdrew completely from Lux's mind and exited the room. No sense of victory or satisfaction stirred in him at the completion of his goal, only repugnance and contrition of what occurred.

As soon as the door shut behind him he sighed heavily into his communicator.

"Master Yoda, we have what we need."


	2. Steps Towards Healing

_**A/n**: Sorry, guys. School and Exams._

* * *

**Steps Towards Healing**

_"Aayla, I need your help. Something very disturbing has happened..."_

It bothered her deeply that Kit's voice was so somber. Through the long, trying months of the war, he always managed to keep himself optimistic, even when she herself felt like despairing; she often found herself seeking his company because of it. In his hologram, however, she saw his clenched jaw and his normally jovial eyes were dark and hidden beneath his furrowed brows.

She shook her head to clear her mind to focus on what was happening before her now. Like he asked, she was already back on Coruscant, and the pungent smell of garbage and sewers permeating the air kept her mind clear as the faint light of the deserted alley served only to hamper her vision.

In contrast to the majestic skyscrapers and opulent inhabitants of the surface, the lower levels were the refuge of criminals and other scum of the galaxy, much like the men that surrounded her now. Three stood at the alley's only exit and two with bludgeoning weapons sidestepped carefully to each of her flanks until they boxed her in.

"There's no escape for you, Jedi," the leader sneered, stretching his half-scarred face to an even worse state of disfigurement and daring the poorly healed skin to rip open once more. He trained the muzzle of his blaster on her, drawing an invisible line from the barrel to her chest.

"Why don't you drop your lightstick and come with us, sweet stuff?"

She barely inclined her head at the human on her right, ignoring his useless suggestion and instead gave much consideration to the vibrosword he wielded. _Clutched_- more so than wielded, she corrected; his hands gripped the weapon's hilt tightly and rested unevenly on its length, sure to make his swings wide and uncontrolled.

"We wouldn't want to spoil something so pretty."

Her only response to their jeers was the activation of her lightsaber, the azure hue of its blade matching her skin and illuminating the alley they occupied in an eerie iridescent glow.

From her left, the whooping sound of a blade slicing the still air as it twirled could be heard over the loud hum of her weapon. She faced its handler, considering him more fully than the weapon he used to cut perfect and concentric arcs in the air. Her gaze swept up from his heavily-inked face to the broken vestigial horns that crowned his head.

The zabrak flicked his tongue over his blackened teeth when she met his eyes. "Guess she likes to play rough."

She cocked an eyebrow at the innuendo. These simulations were continuing to improve in their mimicry of real beings. But as her examination of him continued, she wondered - flippantly - if his patterned face was constructed at random and more importantly if the holographic projection would respond to pain or the illusion of it.

Stray thoughts aside, she sprang into action when a pair of the men with blasters opened fire. Her lightsaber bent in acute and obtuse angles, easily and flawlessly deflecting each bolt back into the chests of her attackers. They crumpled to the ground as their holograms flickered and faded.

With two holodroids deactivated, her attention shifted to another pair. Both swung their makeshift bludgeons, but she was faster; the human and gran clutched at the air where their arms had been. Turning the downward motion of her swing into a well-placed spinning kick, she neutralized them, sending them hard backwards into a stack crates.

She skirted one leg in front of the other and reversed her position to face her back to the wall. Motion from the tumbling crates had thrown her off and the zabrak's movement was lost to her. She prepared for his imminent surprise attack, sweeping her leg across the littered ground to widen her stance into a low crouch. Feet kicked off a crate to her left, revealing the last of her attackers. Granting herself speed with the Force, she willed her body to move, barely evading the blade that sliced the air where she had been standing only a second before.

Landing perfectly on both feet in a solid stance, the zabrak sneered arrogantly at her, his eyes reflecting the garish glow of her lightsaber. "It's just you and me now, Blue."

Without hesitation, she lunged to strike him, but he did not bring his blade up to parry hers. Her lightsaber cleaved through his chest until he flickered and she found herself staring at the holodroid's vacuous facade as it fell backwards. Left standing alone and disappointed as the lingering sense of incompletion nagged at her, she looked up at the window leading into the room that housed the controls.

"TH-15?"

The droid's voice filled the Holotraining room. "I am sorry Jedi Secura, but your training session has been terminated."

"By whom?" she asked slightly annoyed. She had booked the Holo room for two hours today and she was only thirty minutes into her training.

"Me," a smooth, moist voice, different from the droid's mechanical one, responded.

Although she heard no staccatoed accent, she recognized who it belonged to.

"Kit," she exclaimed, as the golden doors on the wall nearest to her slid open with a hiss, and she returned the smile of the Nautolan Jedi entering.

**-[{-}]-**

Her excitement was a wave washing over him as he drew near and their hands grasped in a brief exchange of greeting. The familiarity of her vibrant scent and shimmering presence reminded him of the time they had been apart. Though they had spoken only a day ago, a hologram could not convey those things; emotion scents and presences in the Force were the enveloping proof he need to believe otherwise.

"How long has it been?" he asked.

"Too long."

Kit nodded, his smile faltering. "Yes."

The war and its accompanying assignments kept all Jedi on infrequent and chaotic schedules. Sometimes it was two days or two weeks. Even though they spoke almost daily, he hasn't seen Ki-adi-Mundi in a corporeal form for months and Aayla's campaign on Lysyah would have had her gone for several weeks at best if he had not urgently requested her presence back on Coruscant.

A brief silence fell between the two of them and he did not need to look at her to notice that her smile had fallen at his free and unhidden thoughts. Her worry whispered at his tendrils, a change from her excitement and joy of moments ago that were a brief deterrent to his malaise that was now beginning to resurface. The aftereffects of pillaging through the smuggler's mind from earlier were still lingering, but it was not the only source. There was still the boy and the blurring events since yesterday afternoon; such heavy encumbrance in a short amount of time.

Just her presence alone uplifted him; made him cast off their burden and take a short reprieve in the solace she created in him. He disliked, however, the notion of placing it onto her so suddenly after her return. For now, he was happy to see her and have the opportunity to share a light moment before he revealed his summons.

"I'm sorry for disrupting your session," he said, gesturing at the empty holoroom. He really was. From what he had observed in the control room, her session looked very promising. It almost felt wrong of him to rob her of the private training.

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing, Kit. Certainly, not for my leisure. I was occupying myself until you needed me."

And with that statement, she inclined her head, her face open and inquisitive, but he would not answer her unasked question just yet. Once they begin their discussion about his request for her help, there would be no time between them to share such cursory and lighthearted chatter, so he licked his lips as a slight quirk tugged at them.

"Occupying yourself by staring at Zabraks?" he posed with an innocent grin, but she caught the tendril flick he gave that implied banter. It was a little game they played, a game of words and wit.

A hint of a smile appeared on her full lips and she rested her hands lightly on her hips, poised to answer him. "And why do you care if a male holds my attention for an extended period of time, Master Jedi?" Aayla tossed back at him. "Jealous?"

She was quick, but it challenged him to be quicker. It was almost imperceptible, but she leaned forward slightly, tilting her head so that her neck was exposed and he got a pure whiff of her pheromones. She waited in anticipation for his answer and he scented the barest traces of her eagerness of his response; she wanted a true answer from him.

Kit's grin grew wider. "Should I be?"

For a half second, Aayla paused, momentarily slack-jawed as she was unable to supply a quip to continue their game and she finally shook her head in resignation. Mentally, he marked himself a win. It joined a small pile compared to his numerous losses against her.

"If you must know, _Master Fisto_, I was examining his horns as a weakness to exploit. I understand it's exceptionally painful for Zabrak if they are damaged."

With a slight grimace, he agreed. "Exceptionally." The idea to him was comparable to a maimed tendril. Unlike horns however, they would not grow back.

"Besides," she added and her eyes flashed with mirth, "I liked the one with the scar."

It was his turn to pause as realization hit him and he was caught off guard by her baiting statement. Perhaps that was why she usually won these word battles they played on occasion; she threw out quips faster than he could form or expected them. Shamefully, he watched the smirk form across her face.

"Yes, the one with the scar; he was exceptionally handsome in my opinion," he admitted in defeat and they both laughed.

Pondering a way to redeem himself, a curious thought ran through his mind. Perhaps he could catch her off guard as well.

"Well, what would you exploit if I was challenging you?" Kit feigned a sympathetic stance and expression. It almost worked as she opened her mouth to speak before she caught on to his ploy and hastily shielded her thoughts.

Aayla peered at him through a half-squinted eyelid, her mouth wry and pursed. "You are a sly one, Fisto," she told him. "You'll have to learn it the hard way." She folded her arms as she recognized another win. "And considering you've disrupted my training, you might just get that chance."

He leaned forward, brows raised, a grin as wide as earlier on his face again. "Is that a _challenge_, Jedi Secura?" A lightsaber spar was something he _could_ win against her. Most of the time.

Eyes alight with animated enthusiasm, she swayed one of her lekku as subtly as she could and stood fully prepared to spar, exuding a shimmering confidence he found hard to ignore. It bolstered him with anticipation, too, but as much as he wanted to accept her challenge, he had to decline, or at least postpone it. There were more pressing matters at hand. Next time though, he would not suffer defeat so easily.

"It will have to wait, I'm afraid, " he relented with a slowly disappearing smile and gestured toward the door, signaling her to go first.

She nodded in understanding, but the enthusiasm remained in her eyes. "When you're ready then."

He couldn't resist another wide grin. "I always am," he replied as he trailed in her footsteps.

* * *

In the large, sepulchral hallway outside of the training rooms, Aayla continued to follow Kit's lead, watching their boots stride across the scarlet carpet as she waited for him to him speak. She knew little of the reason of her summons, only that he had requested, briefly, as she recalled from the short, urgent message, her assistance with a possible undercover mission. She had had to excuse herself from the joint mission with Master Unduli to Lysyah and return back to the Temple. As she walked with him however, she sensed he did not wish to speak about it just yet.

"We're meeting Master Yoda at the infirmary," he told her, and she was secretly glad they didn't have to meet the diminutive Grand Master in his chambers on the other side of the Temple. To get to the infirmary, it was just a matter of walking down the hall from the training rooms to the main turbolift.

"Were you doing the Lower Level simulation?" Kit asked as they made their way down the hallway. "I couldn't tell from the controls." He once told her he had difficulty distinguishing dark, crime-infested streets of ecumenopolis city-planets at a glance. Lower Level Coruscant, Nar Shaddaa, Taris; they all looked the same to him, but he had guessed correctly enough.

"Close. The Crimson Corridor."

"Crimson Corridor?" he echoed, "I thought I recognized the stench." His nose scrunched up when he spoke as if he could still smell the room, and a group of adolescent padawans they passed gave odd looks at the aquatic Jedi Master. He remained unaware of their glances or her smile.

"I've heard they actually pump up the air from down there." She sounded the padawan rumor off him, curious of its validity. The stench of Coruscant's lower levels was not a pleasant one and if the wind blew just right on a still and humid Coruscanti night, it trickled up even to the Temple's high spires.

"Up from the Lower Levels?" He glanced out the large oblong windows of the Temple, looking below at the twisting and dark shadows lurking between the majestic skyscrapers of the city-planet. "I've heard the same, but I cannot be certain." He shrugged. "But I know it's the genuine odor of garbage and, oddly, fish."

She cast a questioning side glance of her own at him. "Fish?"

"Yes, probably gark or tanko fish..." he surmised before catching her expression. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. "...or at least _I_ think so."

Aayla knew the scent he was describing and probably would never properly enjoy another dish of tanko again because of it. "You're smelling the excrement of the conduit worms," she told him lightly and witnessed his face distort again in disgust.

"Another good reason why I don't use that simulation in the Holo rooms," he mumbled through thinned lips.

She laughed this time, an airy chuckle at Kit's discomfort of the unwarranted new information.

"Be grateful it's just that and not cthons or Coruscanti ogres."

"I _am_."

She glanced up to see his reaction and was reminded of her session from earlier when he flared his nostrils.

"I'm a bit more concerned of the language programs the holoroom chooses to use," she voiced her opinion of the program.

"Too unrealistic?"

"Too _realistic." _If she had not programmed the holoroom herself, she could have believed the simulation was actually occurring. Some of the subtle nuances the holodroids performed were so true to life, but that was why it was programmed as such; to remind them that the danger and fighting of real life could not be switched off.

"Perhaps they adapt according to the program?" he suggested. "The ones I choose are a bit more pleasant than Coruscant's."

"What simulations do you prefer then?" She personally enjoyed a few of the cityscapes, but Corellia was one she used often because it was such a malleable world. She could practice in the sprawling capitol of Coronet, or switch to a suburban or rural setting, all within the same planet.

"I tend to alternate between a few of them; Telos, Mygeeto, depending on an assignment," he shrugged once more, "but I do like the Naboo simulation. That's assuming I get a chance to use it before Anakin does."

She had to agree with him, because she thought the Naboo simulation was indeed a pleasant one, even if there were holographic hostile targets in it, but it was always locked.

"I've only been able to use it twice this month ever since Obi-wan put the restriction on it."

Kit frowned slightly. "Skywalker has an almost unhealthy attraction to that simulation."

"Why do you suppose?" She thought it a bit obsessive of him to repeat the simulation. A bit callow, as well. His adaptability to an environment would be hampered if the program was all he chose or was willing to practice in.

"I'm sure Skywalker has his reasons," Kit offered quietly. "I quite enjoy it myself. Naboo is a nice system. The waterfalls and pastures are beautiful and its architecture is unique. It intrigues me how they incorporate water as a vital element into it."

Nodding, she accepted his reason. If Kit held an affinity for water, why not Skywalker, as well? A different environment must be captivating for one whose memories were filled of a desert planet. Sand did not hold pleasant memories for her either.

"There is one reason above the rest that I believe Obi-Wan's former pupil enjoys the Naboo simulation, though," he said slowly, as if he had just constructed the idea in his mind but was unsure of its purpose.

"Hmm?" she inquired as they reached the turbolift.

He turned to look at her before pressing the button and the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

"Senator Amidala is from Naboo."

An interesting thought, and one that had not occurred to her. "You think-"

Slightly apologetic, he shrugged as they entered the turbolift, quickly dismissing his insinuation. "I can only presume."

As the doors slid closed, Kit fell silent as he regarded the turbolift's panel for a moment, and she sensed his mood change drastically, the somber emotions and thoughts he made no attempt to mask earlier resurfacing. He gave a heavy sigh and pressed the button that would get them to the infirmary's third level, Recovery.

Unease settled in her stomach as they ascended when she wondered who they were seeing in the infirmary. Every day the infirmary grew crowded with Jedi injured from the war. In all her years as a Jedi, never has she seen it this full. After spending some time there herself in the past months since the war began, she wished wholeheartedly that it would end as abruptly as it started. There were too many padawans without masters and likewise, too many full beds.

"Aayla," he started, crossing his arms and searching the floor, "I asked for your return because I need your help."

She listened intently to him, watching his face take on the troubled features of his message the day before. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Yesterday, a padawan killed an unarmed woman and her young child."

Her stomach turned as she heard his words and all she could do was raise her eyebrows in astonishment at his jarring statement. "Why?"

"We believe he was controlled by someone Force-sensitive using a drug that lowers mental defense."

Kit seemed to study her face, and she felt him brush her outer thoughts, trying to discern her reaction. He did not have to search long, because she was already busily connecting the information he told her and her place in all of it. "Where do I fit in?"

They reached their destination and the turbolift opened to the blue-green floors and pink pillars of the Halls of Healing.

"We've gathered quite a bit of information," he answered as they exited, "enough for us to work undercover to find the source of this drug and perhaps end its manufacture. I think you are well suited to join me and Master Yoda agrees."

Aayla nodded, "Of course. I'll assist in anyway."

At her answer, he slowed his pace, slightly, and she sensed he had something else to ask her but was unwilling to ask it.

"Kit?"

His hesitation became more apparent as the silence grew, and he folded his hands behind his back, shifting his stance slightly to move out of the sun shining through the hall's high windows.

"I do have another request that is more unofficial. The boy, Mero, might hold more information. He's withdrawn since the attack and his mind is... fragile. I thought perhaps you might be able to...relate to him. From your past experiences."

With his eyes large and sympathetic, he studied her, trying once more to gauge her reactions and Aayla felt that he made no intention to hide his concern and worry about his request.

"I feel like I'm asking too much of you," he confirmed, his lips turned in a small frown.

"Not at all," she told him truthfully. She thought it a good thing that he had remembered her history and considered it as a way she could contribute to this mission. "Please, Kit," she reassured him when his frown remained, "I'm glad you asked me."

Her smile seemed to alleviate most of his concerns about the subject and he was able to at least muster an apologetic smile.

"Thank- you."

Their conversation had already brought them to the fifth observation deck that Master Yoda was waiting in. Aayla entered the tiny room first, noticing at once the unseen wall of emotion that buffeted her as she stepped in. Master Yoda stood waiting by the room's only table, a functional and plain little thing that accented the spartan couch it was next to, and he nodded at their entrance.

"Master Fisto and Knight Secura."

They both returned his bow and replied in unison. "Master Yoda."

"Joining us, Master Sahn Jankim is." The sage Jedi acknowledged another who occupied the small room, a black-haired human who offered them a greeting.

Immediately, she identified the man as the source of the unrestrained emotion that filled the already cramped space. It took much discipline for her not to frown because never had she seen a Jedi exude personal feelings so carelessly, especially not from a master. Still, she greeted him politely. She had never personally met Sahn, but she was certain she had seen him about the Temple and knew of him by reputation only. Although his normal countenance was not one she was familiar with, she could tell he was deeply troubled by the recent events; his eyebrows remained knitted, and his watery green eyes drooped with tiredness only stress could create.

"The unfortunate situation his padawan was found in, our purpose of this meeting is," Yoda began. "Though unconscious was he, slain beside him were a mother and her young son. Killed by him."

In the corner of the room, Sahn seemed to shift uneasily, and Master Yoda frowned slightly at the action before continuing. "Evidence there is that proves Padawan Diven's innocence," he finished and procured a small vial from the inside of his robes.

"The spice," Aayla answered.

"Yes," he confirmed, handing her the sample.

Rolling around in the vial were tiny ebony granules looking very much like darkened sand from Tatooine, Ryloth, or some other gritty environment.

"It's called Dust," Kit told her. "Surface testing has revealed that the substance is manufactured and in its purest form. It doesn't react to inorganic materials, like the vial or clothes, but it does react to organic tissue; it's absorbed by skin."

Shrugging, he gestured out the window at the patient on the deck below.

"We've only been able to see the effects on Mero. The only other information we've been able to determine is that the mind of the person under this drug is left unguarded and open to attack. It's base purpose is supposed to act as a narcotic, giving its users a state of euphoria or something of the sort."

She joined Kit at the deck's large window, set up so visitors could view the injured without being in the way, and studied the adolescent boy being attended to by a Healer.

"It stays in the bloodstream for an indeterminate amount of time. Mero is no longer under its effects, but the physical residue is still on his skin. They're spores of some kind left in the body," Kit continued.

The black lines that stained the boy's skin stirred thoughts in her. Could a child so young be tainted by the Dark Side? The thought seemed preposterous, yet it couldn't be ruled out. She had been his age, or barely older, when the taint had touched her. But now, the galaxy was in a time of war. Not only were battles fought against battle droids and rebelling systems, but against an obscure nemesis as well. The ranks of the Sith were rising, and likewise, the Jedi's own were dwindling.

"So..." she regarded the vial more carefully. "A Force-Sensitive telepath could potentially control any person under the effects of this drug."

"Yes. Exploited he was, used against his own will," Yoda spoke to the three of them once more as he joined them at the window. "Guilty he feels."

A brief and uncomfortable moment passed with heavy silence as the four of them observed Mero.

"For the deaths?" Kit asked solemnly.

Yoda nodded. "A heavy burden he now carries for a boy so young."

_It is a burden he would carry for the rest of his life_, Aayla thought. She still carried her own even after all these years. Though the weight of her own dark ordeal was lifted, it still remained.

"Lighten so quickly it will not, but time and counsel, help they will."

She had the feeling that his words, though spoken to all of them, were aimed at her, and she thought she saw briefly out of her peripheral vision, the elder jedi glance at her. She turned to catch the end of the loaded expression on his wizened features that he regularly gave, telling someone that the words he was speaking had more meanings than one. Together with Kit's request of earlier, she gathered that he was clueing her to speak to the boy.

"Master Yoda, may I speak with Mero?" she asked, looking from the Grand Master to Sahn. "If it is alright with you as well, Master Jankim." Certainly, she did not wish to overstep boundaries as she was not the boy's master.

Sahn gazed at her oddly as if only just becoming aware of her presence. "If you think you can get through to him," he answered stiffly, then lowered his voice as if murmuring to himself. "But he hasn't really spoken to anyone other than Master Yoda."

"I went through something similar when I was a padawan," she said quietly, addressing the doubt he made no intention to hide. The emotion spilled off him so strongly, pounding down harder than if he had vocally made his doubt known.

"Yes, " Yoda interjected with a firm tap of his cane on the ground. "Speak to him, Aayla. Help him you can."

With a curt nod, she silently excused herself from the room.

* * *

Thoughts jumbled together in her mind as she constructed what to say to the boy as she made her way down from the observation room to him. She pulled memories stored from deep in her lekku; harsh and painful recollections that continued to haunt her when she was unsuspecting, but she drew on them now, strengthening her resolve to lessen Mero's pain. Consoling him would not be an easy task, especially if he didn't even want to speak to his own master. It never was, but she always believed it was a task necessary to healing. The healing of her own ordeal was stimulated by the counsel of others who had gone out of their way to help her. She had done the same; to Xiann, to Ahsoka, and even Ahsoka's master when he himself was a padawan not that long ago.

Reaching the Recovery room door, it slid open and she spotted Mero at the large window next to his bed. She rested on an empty one across from his and crossed her arms as she spoke to him.

"You can't shoulder this. You weren't in control of yourself."

Mero said nothing and continued to stare out into the Coruscanti sunset, the fading ebony veins on his neck and jaw still visible and still sinister on his skin.

Aayla closed her eyes, remembering the burn of the glitteryll on her own skin.

_Abrasive heat, burning down into her flesh, searing away her memories..._

She shook her head and instead focused outward until she sensed the boy's feelings. Through the dense cloud of emotions that hung around him, she learned that he wasn't being impertinent by ignoring her. He was _ashamed_ and so did not wish to look at her. She recalled the feeling...

_After her return that she felt she did not deserve, she avoided meeting all eyes that dared to look upon her. Their smiles were polite in the barest sense of the word. Eyes pitied her, judged her, were afraid of her. They _feared_ that she had walked the dark path, were _disgusted_ that she had even dared to return and disrespect the hallowed Temple Halls..._

"I was in a similar situation as well," she continued, "My own uncle kept me on a drug that erased my memories. I forgot who I was; I forgot I was a Jedi and attacked my master when he came looking for me."

Finally, after a contemplative silence, the boy met her gaze. "But you didn't kill him," he said despondently, turning his head to stare out the window once more.

She sighed, "No, I didn't, but I killed my uncle."

Another silence passed until Mero spoke again. "So what happened?"

Aayla continued, glad to get through to him somehow even if their conversation was morbid. "The death was accidental, but still my fault. I cast the blame on my master and stowed aboard a smuggler's ship to hold him responsible but I released a Dark Jedi from his imprisonment instead."

His full attention was on her now, and he studied her face with a scrutiny beyond his age.

"I embraced the Dark Side, and the Dark Jedi fed off of my anger and took control of me."

A pause overtook her as her lekku forced up scarring memories of pained and gnashed faces.

"I killed many more people."

"The Dark Side," Mero whispered, his grey eyes never leaving hers. "How did it feel?"

_Anger. Such intense __**anger.**__ He multiplied it so that was all that fueled her. It made her stronger, gave her __**power**__._

She hesitated. Should she explain what she experienced about the Dark Side to a boy so young? Would she be responsible if he gave into its destructive temptation?

"The Dark Side is...twisted," she answered slowly. "It gives you power but at a terrible cost. You use your emotions; anger, hate, passion, to fuel that power."

Mero fell quiet and seemed to search his hands for his thoughts. "That's not what I felt," he admitted. "I... felt it near me, then attacking me," he explained when he saw her alarmed expression. "I felt blackness. Thick, heavy blackness. Like oil. But it was around me and then inside my mind."

Confusing thoughts stirred in the boy, churning uncertainty and a desperate desire for answers.

"Yes," she nodded. "I've felt that too, from others who have fallen to the Dark Side."

"And do you sense that in me?"

Aayla blinked, drawn back and surprised at his sincere request to hear the truth, but she knew it was more a need than a request, just like all those years ago, when she _needed_ to hear it from her master, from the Council, from other Jedi, that she was in the Light. As she peered into his eyes, frightened and pained, she saw herself in him, and beyond the emotions and thoughts he held open for her examination, she found a remorseful and penitent boy, not the corrupted nashtah she had once been. What she herself had once felt was wholly different.

_Anger's grip was piercing. It gripped her heart, seeping it's deadly fuel into her veins; up to the recesses of her mind and down into every fingertip._

Only emotions of sorrow and guilt were the strongest she felt in him, but she dared not touch deeper into his inner thoughts, the barriers of which she felt were battered and unsound. And when she saw the shattered state of his mind, she experienced a deep sympathy for him. Mero bowed his head, his eyes dropping to the floor as he underwent her scrutiny. She gave his shoulder a firm squeeze and forced him to meet her eyes.

"I _don't_ sense those things in you, Mero," she told him, and opened up her emotions and thoughts so he could see she was truly sincere.

He searched her eyes until he found the truth in them and finally nodded with a sigh. "I just... wanted to help the boy," he whispered to the floor. "I bumped into him on the street, and he was crying so I tried to cheer him up with a trick."

The ghost of a smile formed on his lips as he recalled the events, but it slowly began to disappear.

"I moved a small orb with the Force, the kind Master Yoda gives Younglings. I gave it to him while we went to find his mother." He ran his hands over his face, trembling as they fell over his features. "I can...I can still see the orb rolling out of his hand and hear it roll down the alley."

Mero fell silent, but Aayla began to feel the creep of his emotions. His eyebrow twitched as he clung to his despair.

"_Nothing_ will not change the fact that I killed that boy and his mother," he said quietly, the anguish in his voice so heart wrenching to her.

"Yes, that is true, but you must also accept that it is not your fault. You were forced to kill these people."

The corners of the padawan's mouth twisted in disgust and his voice faltered when he spoke.

"It _is._ I...I _liked_ it. I liked listening to that Voice telling me what to do."

A sickening confession; one she understood too well, and she did not cringe away from it..

_When Karkko spoke a command, she fulfilled it unquestioningly; when he thought a vision, his will was her own, and their will be done. She was his servant, his hand, his Queen._

Mero should feel no fault for having his mind entered unwillingly and bent to another's desires.

"The dark side holds false promises for those who hear its whispered temptations. I was not under a drug's control as you were; my feelings were my own. Do you see the difference?"

Glancing up at the window, Mero sighed again, resigning to her words.

"Your master? Did he forgive you?" he asked quietly, his voice even, and it surprised her that the boy was able to dispel his emotions so well.

She looked up too, to the glass that separated them and the Jedi Masters on the observation deck, understanding now why he was hesitant to talk to Sahn.

"This is what worries you? That Sahn won't forgive you because of what you've done?"

"How can he?" Voice raising, Mero stood up from the bed and pointed at himself. "I killed two innocent people, one of them a child," he cried.

She did not flinch at his tirade, but frowned slightly at it and answered him calmly. "Because you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Though he stared at the floor, his internal struggle of confronting his emotions and remembering his Jedi teachings surrounded her, a flood of despair ready to drown her.

"Sit down."

Mero looked up at her abruptly, startled and slightly offended at the firmness of her command. Although she felt a bit apprehensive of her terseness, he needed to be assured of what was right and what he perceived to be.

"Sit down," she repeated, "and remember you are a Jedi."

Almost immediately, his demeanor changed, and feelings of duty and structure formed in him as he wordlessly obeyed at sank back onto the bed.

"Do not place the twisted decisions and actions of someone else onto yourself. You dishonor that mother and child by doing so."

Mero leaned forward with rapt attention, listening intently to her words as a child would when receiving instruction in the classroom. Through the Force, she sensed that they bolstered deep in his mind, but she also sensed his other emotions still remained, and she knew they would remain with him for a while.

"I know you're scared and I understand your pain," she continued, softening her voice once more, "but you forget your teachings. You cannot cling to these emotions because they cloud your judgment and impair your decisions."

Mero dropped his eyes to the floor again.

"No, don't be ashamed," she told him and placed her hand on his shoulder once more. "Every master and padawan has trials that test their bond.

"But what if Master Sahn doesn't want me as his padawan anymore?" he repeated, anguish returning and reminding her that he was still a child, scared and afraid.

_"...Aayla, don't be ashamed." With a calloused hand, Master Vos lifted her chin until she met his eyes. "__**Don't,**__" he stressed. "I flew halfway across the galaxy to find you-"_

_"-deep in the clutches of the Dark Side-" She finished for him., pulling her face away. She was ashamed, tainted._

_"No," he barked, and jostled her as he gripped her shoulder to stress his words. "I flew across the galaxy to find you __**because you are my padawan**__..."_

With the memory fresh in her mind, she answered Mero's desperate question. "You already make Sahn's decision by assuming he has."

And just like a child desperate for answers, his mouth opened up to ask another question, while she sensed perhaps a dozen more bubbling up inside him.

"These trials don't just test your bond; they also test _you_. Your next actions, the decisions you will make are what will mold you into person and Jedi you will become. Do you understand?"

Mero nodded, but his eyebrows knit in contemplative uncertainty.

"The answers you seek lie between you and your master, and it will be awhile before all of them are answered. But," she added with a smile to reassure him, "between you and me, I think he'll keep you." She didn't want to presume about Sahn's decision either, but she highly doubted he would abandon Mero.

A hint of a smile appeared on his thinned lips before his gaze drifted once again to the afternoon cityscape outside the window. She could think of nothing else to say to him. Perhaps, that was _all_ she needed to say, but regardless, a long and difficult journey still lay ahead for him and Sahn. The glimmer of hope that formed in him was the sign she needed that assured her of his first step towards healing. Another part of that healing would be the answers that she and Kit would help find through this investigation.

"Master Yoda will have Master Fisto and I find who is responsible for this."

She felt she had to give it to him this information as something to look forward to, even though he merely acknowledged it without looking at her.

"When I get back you'll have to tell me what it is you find so interesting about skylane rush hour traffic."

A true smile formed on his face and behind the impish grin, Aayla glimpsed the amiable boy she thought him to be.

"I should tell you this joke Master Sahn made up," he suggested.

"I'd love to hear it," she grinned, and as they talked and joked about mundane things like the perpetual traffic of Coruscant's skylanes, she felt confident that she had given Mero the advice he needed.

Not long after that, the door to the medbay slid open and Sahn walked in, his face a mask of uncertainty and contemplation like his padawan's. Mero stood up at his entrance and held a deep bow.

"Master Sahn, please forgive me. I've disgraced you."

Aayla watched the private interaction, averting her eyes as Sahn nearly cringed at Mero's words. It was painful to observe; Sahn was every bit as unbalanced and concerned as his padawan and they both needed to see how their inability to speak to one another created unnecessary turmoil. But she was relieved when Sahn placed a hand on his padawan's shoulder and brought him up to face him.

"Would you care to join me in the Room of a Thousand Fountains to meditate? I'd like the company." He offered a feeble smile that was a true reflection of his emotions.

They exchanged a heavy glance that no doubt conveyed tremendous emotions and meanings she was not supposed to have witnessed; in the Force she felt their strong connection and the reconciliation that occurred. She was an unwilling participant of this intimacy, but she was glad to see Mero match his master's expression.

"Good." With a genuine smile, Sahn gave his shoulder a squeeze and began to lead him out of the medbay.

Before they reached the door, Mero looked back at her, eyebrows raised, as if to finally agree that she had been right all along. With a sincere bow, he thanked her, and Aayla gave him another smile as she returned the gesture. Sahn bowed also, expressing his gratitude.

"Yes, thank-you, Aayla. May the Force be with you and Master Fisto." The black-haired Jedi bowed once more as they took their leave. "Please excuse us."

A tap on the observation window caught her attention; it was Kit, motioning for her to come back up.

* * *

_A/n: Hopefully this didn't drag on too long because I feel it's so angsty. I tried to focus on Aayla mentoring Mero for a bit because she seems to do it a lot in the comics (with Anakin and Xiann) and Ahsoka in CW. Also, check out Wookieepedia for more info on Karkko Volfe and Aayla's ordeal when she was a padawan. Or better yet, read the comics!_


	3. Troubling Signs and Jedi Treasures

_**A/n**: Time to get this story going._

* * *

**Troubling signs and Jedi treasures.**

"You doubt Aayla will get through to him?" Kit asked, having turned to Sahn once Aayla had left.

He had stated it a bit tersely than intended, perhaps, as he heard the question leave his lips. It was in his better opinion that Sahn should give her the benefit of a doubt, but over the course of these two days, the Master was making few and fewer attempts to hide and control his emotions; a troubling sign. Perhaps more troubling was the knowledge that Master Yoda was becoming uncomfortable with Sahn's lack of control.

In this moment now, though, Sahn seemed to become aware of it, perhaps from his unintentional chiding question. Whether that was the case or not, Kit felt Sahn's shame briefly before the majority of his emotions became hastily masked.

"I am worried, Master Fisto," he answered.

Worry was not an emotion Kit had ever associated with Sahn. While he admitted that outside of Council chamber, he had only ever met Sahn a few times in passing in the Temple halls, he knew well enough that in those few occasions he carried himself very strongly, possessing a certain fortitude that appeared in his speech, stride, and demeanor; something lower than arrogance but higher than confidence. The present slump in Sahn's shoulders was foreign to him.

"Of?"

Sahn returned his gaze to the window. "The future."

Like a faucet, the man's emotions trickled unguardedly back into his senses again.

_What happens now?_

The impending question ricocheted in Sahn's mind, along with dozens of possible scenarios being drawn, all focusing in intensity to what would come in the next_ day. Hour. Minute. The next __**second**_.

Kit looked back at Master Yoda, a bit uncertain of himself of what to say to Sahn, and the Grand Master spoke.

Lips pursed in a slight frown, he twirled his grimer stick a quarter-turn before answering, "Always moving, always changing the future is, Sahn."

He made his way to the window as well. "Dark and twisted," he stressed with two taps of his cane to the floor, "the things that have occurred. Unforeseen and unfortunate, yes."

Sahn blinked slowly, nodding aimlessly at the statement as his eyes remained fixed on the figures on the floor below. Master Yoda's counsel affected Sahn enough that Kit had resigned Master Jankim's subdued emotions to a numb and dull background noise.

"Alone in this endeavor you are not," Yoda reassurredly finished and Kit briefly placed a comforting hand on Sahn's shoulder. "Much have you done, already."

A feeble smile stretched across Sahn's lips, and Kit smiled too at the swell of hope and gratuity that rose in the tired Jedi master.

"Investigate further, Kit and Aayla will where you cannot. Focus now completely you should, on your Padawan."

"How?"

The trickle of uncertainty that washed off Sahn filled Kit's tendrils as strongly as he heard the emotion in the man's voice, and it disturbed the him greatly to see a person as sanguine as Sahn unsure how to help his padawan.

"Magnified by the drug, Mero's feelings are. Help him you must. Fears he does that you will disown him."

Sahn flinched. "He thinks that?"

Kit was almost overwhelmed by the human's emotions. Intense affection and utter disbelief washed over him; he obviously cared very much for the boy.

"Take him and go now to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Find healing and solitude you both will."

Sahn pondered for a moment, before nodding and leaving the room as well.

Kit watched the retreating Master's back, emphasizing with him. While he himself felt perturbed and uneasy of the terrible events of the past two days, Sahn's ordeal must be tenfold. It disappointed him that every time they would meet after this plight, Sahn would only remember these negative memories.

"Strong are Sahn's feelings for the boy," Master Yoda spoke when Sahn had left. "Love him he does."

"Love?" He was uncertain of Yoda's intentions with the statement.

"Strong is the bond between them," he clarified. "Attached they are. Like a Father to his son."

Kit had to agree that the emotions of both of them for each other were intense. While it may not have much of an effect right now, if something were to happen in the future, the consequences would be severe. Already Sahn and Mero were having difficulty with their control over their emotions. Given the circumstances, it was understandable, and Kit felt for them, but as a Council member, he had to be concerned.

"What is to become of Mero?" he wondered. How would the Council proceed with this? With no time between the events of yesterday afternoon and now, they hadn't formally discussed it yet.

"Healing and counsel. Whatever the boy needs." He caught sight of Sahn downstairs talking to Mero. "And Sahn as well."

"I agree, Master. This is difficult for them, as it would be for any Master and apprentice, but for one so young; it is disconcerting to them both. I hope they will recover from this ordeal."

"Disturbing is this becoming more and more."

Kit's knuckles rapped the glass, and he waved his hand at Aayla to call her up. "Will there be a formal Council meeting about this?" he asked, watching her through the window. Only he and Master Yoda were currently working on this with their undivided attention because the rest of the Council was spread thin, and when they did meet on this matter, he might be too deep undercover to discuss it with them.

"In time. Informed the other Masters I have, but quickly we must move if we are to unravel the mysteries of this drug. Speak on this matter more we will when Aayla arrives."

He nodded and they waited the remaining minute it took her to return in silence. When she did, Yoda motioned for both of them to be seated on the couch.

"Little time have we to gather our thoughts and information. Move swiftly we must."

"How do we know so much of the drug already?" Aayla asked.

Even with her sharp mind, he knew she was at a loss of information. It was partly his responsibility she was not briefed of things after requesting she return so quickly. He started at the beginning, presenting a shortened version of events and touching the important facts.

"After Mero was discovered, we didn't have much information. He was unconscious, but it was apparent that the drug was an important piece of a much larger puzzle. Around sunset, we were able to connect it with a report from Master Antilles about a smuggler in a cantina who was selling Dust. He's in our custody now."

He pursed his lips, remembering the interrogation of a few hours ago.

"And do we know anything else? The manufacturer, a base of operations..." she fished.

"A few things," he answered her and pointed to a datapad on the table in front of the couch. "The information we have points to Nar Shaddaa."

Aayla began scrolling the data and frowned. "Nar Shaddaa is an unlikely place for Separatist activity," she suggested.

Kit agreed. "Which is why it would seem like no better choice for Dooku to pay off somebody to manufacture and smuggle it through there amongst the crime and corruption of the underworld, away from the eyes of the Republic."

"But how would it market if its true purpose was unknown? It says in Master Antilles' report he was being offered a narcotic with no mention of its mental depression."

"From what I learned from the smuggler, he brought the spice here to give to someone. What's interesting to note is that the amount used on Mero was many times more what a normal dose would be. It had him seizing and very well might have killed him."

Aayla connected the unseen dots. "Which suggests that someone was practicing on him."

Kit nodded in agreement. "Exactly."

"Targeted he was, "Yoda nodded as well. "A Jedi is he."

"Because his mind would be trained, but still young and easy to be taken advantage of," Aayla said, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair. "The perfect experiment," she added, the statement pulling her lips into a frown.

Yoda, too, let his unease known momentarily, with a noisy exhale and slight scowl before resting his chin on his gimer stick.

"Of the drug's existence and purpose we can be sure of," he said.

"The Sith."

_There can be no doubt_, Kit thought. The creation of this drug was clearly intentional. It was not a coincidence, not when the war and the reemergence of the Sith were considered. Their involvement was glaringly blatant. Who else but the Sith would manufacture a substance so potent? Regardless of the creator's identity, it was quite clear who the drug's intended target was.

"Master Fisto, insight on this matter do you have?" the diminutive Grand master asked, sensing his fellow Council member's thoughts.

Kit apologized for his silence. Often times, he fell deep into thought and neglected to show his vocal contribution to conversations.

"Only speculation, Master."

"One of our only tools, speculation is in discovering the mystery behind this drug."

"Dooku could be using one of his followers, his acolytes, to control victims of Dust. They would have to be powerful; gifted enough to control one or possibly more than one person." The thought of such a being twisted enough to perform such a heinous act was unsettling to him.

"Your thoughts, Aayla?" Yoda asked.

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward once more. After a moment of deep thought contemplating his speculations, she nodded. "I agree with him. It seems this could be the closest conclusion with the information we have."

"Good. The direction and conclusion this seems to move towards. Little else is there to discuss. Prepare yourselves for this assignment you must. As best you can. For dangerous and dark it will be." With this, the sage master nodded his departure from their presence. "Final preparations I must do. Meet you I will before you depart."

When Master Yoda left, Kit shifted in his chair to properly face her. "Aayla, if you don't want to do this assignment, I understand. I called you a bit prematurely, and now that I have a greater sense of the situation, I fear it might be more than you want to deal with."

She dismissed his concern with a quick lash of a lekku, but it also fanned her disappointment towards his tendrils. "You felt you needed my help with this. Don't second guess yourself. I'm here and I will help you."

He blinked at the slight offense she took at his worry, not intending to have stirred it.

"Of course." He smiled politely, but she had already returned to scrolling through the datapad.

"What's our plan?"

Kit cleared his throat, eager to move past the uncomfortable moment. "You've gone through the information, yes?"

"I've skimmed through most of it."

"What do you think? It's the strongest we've come up with on such little time and information." He felt that his scheme was weak. There were too many unknowns, but this could be their only chance to pursue any leads before the trail ran cold. He gave her the time she needed to review their plan. He needed her eyes, her expertise when it came to undercover because she was so much more adept at it than he was.

He had construed a plan to take Lux's ship back to Nar Shaddaa and bring in a shipment he was supposed to return. As smugglers, they would claim they were cheated by Lux and took his ship after he tried to sell them Dust but bailed. Even with that, the goods of the shipment were unknown to them as well as the identity of its receiver and whether or not they were the manufacturers.

Aayla pouted. "I think, it's risky taking in that shipment, but if we can have a solid cover and stick to it, it could very well get us to the end of this investigation."

Good. He was glad she had seen the issues he had with his plan, but even if they had a solid cover, they would still be going in blind, something they should remain very aware of as they set out.

"Let's get to it, then."

* * *

Already dressed as his alias, Kit leaned against the exit ramp of the _Blue Dancer_, and some of the Temple's inhabitants eyed him warily. A curt nod and trademark smile reassured them it was really him and not a space pirate stealing their starfighters.

"Master Fisto."

He turned at the voice of the Grand Master.

"Yes, Master?"

"Something else I have for your journey, to aid you should your need for it arise." Producing a small, plain pouch from his robe, Yoda handed it to him.

Although he did not open it, the warm glow that emitted into his palm from the unseen object shocked him. It was a Healing Crystal of Fire.

Kit's brows furrowed when he peered down at the wizened Jedi. Deep concerns bubbled within him. Only healers were allowed to carry the smaller stones of one of the Order's most valued treasures with them on journeys, and only then if the situation was dire.

"Master Yoda, do you think we'll need to use this?"

"A precaution it is," Yoda told him, aware of his concern. Rare folds of worry creased the respected Jedi's brow, quickly disappearing when he gave a reassuring smile. "Doubt I do you will need it. Very disciplined you are."

They both saw Aayla walk towards them and Yoda's smile faded to concern again.

"But, not as disciplined as you are, Aayla is. Worry I do, for under spice's grasp has she been. And the control of another."

The weight of the crystal weighed heavily in his hand as he considered Master Yoda's words. _He_ had chosen her to join him on this investigation, and Master Yoda was reminding him of it; of the dangerous position he was placing Aayla in.

"Master," Kit spoke slowly, unsure of what he was asking of him. "Do you...wish me to keep an eye on her?"

"Already has this drug done harm," he dodged.

Aayla was within earshot, and his green eyes narrowed at both of them as she drew near.

"A watchful eye you must both keep on each other, for dangerous this mission will be. May the Force be with you both," Yoda saluted.

Both he and Aayla watched Yoda's slowly retreating back. She caught Kit's eye, casting him a neutral expression, having heard the Grand Master's instructions.

He gave her a small smile to lighten the mood. "The ship is warmed up, ready for takeoff when you are."

"This is it?" Aayla asked in slight awe, staring at the ship sitting in the Temple's main garage.

The datapad had described the _Blue Dancer_ as a Corellian YT-1760, but the numerous modifications done to the ship, including quad laser cannons on the hull, would easily make one believe it was a prototype or newer model.

He grinned at her expression. "You were expecting something else?"

She was slightly embarrassed. "I wasn't expecting the ship to look like this, especially after seeing its former owner."

"Apparently, Jek Lux's former employers paid him well," he said, eyeing the ship. "The interior is actually better than what we're seeing here."

Gesturing for Aayla to walk first, he followed her up the ramp of the _Dancer_. He slipped the crystal into his pocket, deciding he'd tell her about it later.

**-[{-}]-**

Kit was right.

The interior of the _Blue Dancer_ was as lavishly decorated as the exterior. Although the Corellian freighter was initially intended to be a transport, the now-incarcerated smuggler, Jek Lux, had managed to turn it into something else. Four of the eight passenger rooms had been refitted into extra cargo holds, with the other four remodeled into two elegant sleeping quarters.

An extreme downside she had once heard about this particular model, though was that it demanded an unhealthy amount of maintenance, practically forcing anyone who flew it to have mechanical prowess. It would help their cover as she was using her Jaayza alias once more.

"There's a _lot _of cargo space on this ship," she said, stopping in the _Dancer'_s main cargo hold. She spotted six platinum-colored crates secured in the corner.

"This is the shipment?"

Kit pouted at the crates. "We _think_ they're holding crystalline vertex." He tossed her another datapad. "This was with it. Lux was supposed to return it Nar Shaddaa to someone named Fel."

"And Fel is the one we believe is the manufacturer?"

"Yes. That's what I was able to deem from Lux. Tied in some way to the manufacturer at least."

"Hmm." She leaned closer to examine the crates more and she recognized what type it was. "Uni-bend seal?" The crates were sealed in a special way that informed someone it had been opened without its unique key.

He nodded. "That's why we've been unable to examine the contents."

She'd seen something like this once on a mission before with her master. "Quin showed me a way to disarm it without breaking the seals," she told him and ran her hand over a crate. "I might be able to do it."

She bit her bottom lip. She'd never attempted anything like it before and it was as risky as not knowing what was inside the crates.

"See what you can do, but we should leave now. Even with the class 1 hyperdrive, it'll still take us the better half of a Coruscant day to get to Nar Shaddaa."

"Alright." Aayla followed his lead into the cockpit, taking a seat next to him in the co-pilot's chair. As she adjusted the seat to her liking, she glanced over at Kit, his hands already fluttering across the control panels.

He caught her glance and smiled as he calibrated the coordinates with the navcomputer. "Ready?"

"Whenever you are."

With a matching smile, she activated her console and helped him finish the calibrations. If they were posing as smugglers, they had to do everything right. A scrambled route to the Smuggler's Moon from Bogden VI via a stopover in Tatooine would help them do just that.

* * *

The gentle hum of the _Dancer_'s hyperdrive engines filled the cockpit. For four hours, they managed to solidify their aliases and details of the mission, but Kit had fallen silent in the last ten minutes. Aayla had grown accustomed to his muted habit of internal dialogue, but she sensed that he wanted to discuss something else as well as the hesitation that held him from asking it.

"What's on your mind?"

After a moment, he looked away from the cockpit's view screen and turned to face her, his tendrils halting their slight sway.

"I have a thought; an idea," he began. "We are smugglers trying to get into this operation. What if we were Jedi hunters as well?"

She raised her eyebrows at his suggestion.

"I use the term loosely. Think of it as capturing bounty too dangerous for normal hunters, but too distracting for Jedi or Sith to spend resources on during the war."

Aayla stayed quiet, mulling over his suggestion. It was a big risk, even for Kit.

"It might serve to strengthen our interest in Dust," he added.

"I do see your point," she agreed. "But, I think it might create more suspicion. It's risky. We're already gambling with the vertex."

The lids of his eyes half-closed as he weighed her argument in his mind. "Agreed, but we need to figure out something. We'll be arriving soon."

"We'll stick with delivering the vertex. Nothing should go wrong with that." The appearance would be of them cashing in on a delivery. Simple enough. Tension would rise once they mentioned the Dust, however.

"If things get icy, we'll use it though."

They were already going into this investigation blind and completely at the mercy of smugglers, thieves, and crime lords; if they had any semblance of mercy in them. Whoever was manufacturing this drug was extremely dangerous and she and Kit were dancing with danger by wanting in.

"This drug is...unsettling," Kit murmured, sensing her thoughts.

"It's unfortunate that it was used on someone like Mero," she spoke quietly.

He fell silent once more, but she felt his interest and, just like earlier, his hesitation to ask her about Mero, so she brought it up.

"Mero's concerned about his future. He fears he has this...taint on him. One that would make Sahn disown him. Other than that, there's not much else we discussed that could really help us with the mission."

Kit nodded. "I see. There is a very strong bond between them, an almost, how should I say this? _Father-son_ relationship. Master Yoda thinks it will be extremely difficult for them to pull though this."

She sighed. "It will be. Mero will always feel distant from Sahn because of his brush with the Dark side. Quinlan and I were able to cope better because we both experienced the same thing."

As Kit gave a sigh at her words, she sensed a concern from him.

"Was it your idea or Master Yoda's that I speak to Mero?"

"It was mine," he admitted and leaned back in his chair. "I...just didn't think Sahn could have given what Mero needed."

She understood what he was saying and why he said it delicately. She, too, had seen the state Sahn had been in, his uncertainty and disorientation, and it had already begun to affect Mero. Mixed feelings rose in her because of it. She felt gratitude that she could offer advice to him, but grief because she had had to do it in Sahn's stead.

"I'm glad I was able to offer him advice. I just hope I was able to help him."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure you did. He needs time, but I'm confident Sahn will take care of him. We leave it to the will of the Force what they will decide. After your ordeal, didn't you question yourself; your actions, and decisions?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have been able to make my decisions without the support I received from others."

"Exactly. That is our posture to Mero. We are to support him with his plight." He looked out the cockpit to the murky iridescence of hyperspace. "And that includes finding those responsible for the suffering they put him through so it doesn't happen again. To him or anybody else."

She joined his gaze out the window, nodding in agreement with him. She was ready to find people who had caused much suffering and end their deeds.

"I'm going to give those crates one more go."

She stood up. His confidence was contagious. It always lifted her mood and left her refreshed. As she headed down the hall, she admitted that the smile he tossed at her might have helped.

Back in the main hold, she spotted the crates where she had left them after a brief attempt at trying to unlock them. She scoffed to herself. _Looked over_- more than attempted to unlock. Kneeling next to one, she examined the unibend seal more closely. Like any other locked crate, it had a keyhole, but there was a transparent tube with fluorescent red liquid contained inside that wrapped around the lock. Turning the wrong encoded key would activate the tube and cause it to become opaque, informing whoever received the crate that their goods have been tampered with.

If she got the crates open without activating the tube and resealed them, there would be no sign of them having tampered with it because shippers and receivers had separate keys for locking and unlocking the crates. Now she just had to remember how Quin had gotten them open as she dredged her lekku for the memory.

_Eyes closed, he slid his hand over the crate's surface, inhaling deeply as he saw its history in his mind. She watched him as his lips pouted and he placed the other hand over the lock. Through the Force, she felt him manipulate the unseen mechanism until it finally clicked open and her master smirked, accomplished and brazen._

She did the same, running her hand over the cool metal of the crate's cover and pictured the seal in her mind, but to no avail. A thought occurred to her. Could Quin have just used his psychometry to have learned how to open it? No, he still would have needed the key if he did so. She felt him unlock it with the Force. She tried again, this time mimicking the memory and using both hands over the lock, constructing its image both in her mind and in the Force now. Slowly but surely, the inner workings of it became clear in her mind's eye and she saw what to do. With a slight nudge, the lock unlatched.

Opening her eyes, she grinned to herself when she saw that the tube remained transparent. She lifted the cover to check that its contents matched what the datapad said. As she peered into the crates and began matching every row of cut crystal with the line of text, her grin slowly began to disappear. A bad feeling began to worm in her gut as the amount she had sensed in the Force when trying to unlock the crate was significantly less than the datapad's readings. She headed over to the next crate, using the same method as the first one and opened it up to see if what she suspected was true. With the sinking feeling strong in her gut now as she opened the third crate, she knew that it was.

Aayla heard the high-pitched tone of the proximity alert notifying them that they were approaching Nar Shaddaa and she felt Kit pull them out of hyperspace. Racing back to the cockpit, she arrived in time to see the hulking mass of the Smuggler's Moon loom in space, filling the viewport, and Kit flip the com switch after it beeped almost immediately. A hologram of an angry Zabrak appeared.

"You're a day late, Lux. Get your karking ass down-." He stopped, noticing them. "Where the hell's Jek?"

Kit leaned forward and answered, "You're boy's dead. He was making some bad decisions. But we have something that belongs to you."

The Zabrak exhaled noisily, angry at the two of them. No doubt he was conflicted with trusting complete strangers and receiving his delivery. Aayla leaned closer to the hologram, mustering up a seductive smile even though worry was gnawing at her mind.

"Don't worry, love, we have your stuff, unless you want us to keep the crystalline vertex." She paused. "And the Dust."

The horned near-human looked at Aayla for a moment, his widened eyes the only indication of surprise. "Okay," he said slowly and crossed his arms. "Head to docking bay fifty-seven, Corellian Sector. Try _anything_ and my men shoot." With that, the hologram disappeared.

"That was Fel," Kit told her. "Think that went well enough?"

"We'll see."

His arched brow knitted in concern when he felt her mood and saw a lekku lash angrily. "What's wrong?"

"We have a problem. I opened the crates." She saw the color of his face drain with every word that left her mouth. "The vertex, it's rigged. Half of it is missing."

"You're sure?" Kit asked quietly even though he knew her answer.

All she did was nod as she sank into the copilot chair. With a long and heavy sigh, she helped him prepare the ship for planetside. This mission had barely even started and it was already falling apart. As the moon's surface drew clear, she knew it was already too late to do anything.


	4. Ignorance or Innocence

_**A/n**: Thanks everyone for reading and keeping up with my sporadic updating._

* * *

**Ignorance or Innocence**

As they flew down to the surface, the overgrown urban expanse of the moon filled the _Dancer_'s main viewport, bombarding their vision once they broke through the dense impurity of the upper atmosphere. Kit frowned at the unrefined structures jutting up from every square inch of the surface, so very unlike the majestic and gleaming architecture of Coruscant. In his mind, the moon was already hostile and unwelcoming, and he would have wanted no other thing than to leave before they ever touched the planetside.

He dropped their altitude and angled towards their destination on the moon's equator. Just like the rest of Nar Shaddaa, the Corellian Sector was polluted, crowded, and dripping with crime, but the district was also known for its extravagant hotels and casinos.

Kit brought the ship to docking bay fifty-seven, passing the bright, vivid lights of the resorts and gambling establishments that variegated into a dizzying blur. A dull throb was beginning to form at his temples from clenching his jaw tightly. He was not usually one to worry, but seeing the direction this mission was already spiraling towards, concern filled his thoughts.

The Dancer touched down and from the cockpit, he could see the zabrak from the hologram and six of his men standing in the bay, their blasters at the ready. He cut the engines and as they sighed into silence, he sat still and rested his chin on his knuckles, considering their situation. He and Aayla could very well walk right into a wall of energy bolts, and it would be his fault for not ensuring they were fully prepared for this mission.

Desperately, he sifted through the remnants of Lux's memories for any hint of, well..something. He wasn't quite sure if he would find the missing half of the crystalline vertex, or if Jek ever had it in his possession to begin with. He snorted softly in disappointment when he was only able to conjure up the most vivid of the smuggler's experiences; they were already beginning to darken in his mind's eyes.

He raised his eyes to find Aayla observing him. She had remained silent since they found out about the crates, and although she didn't say anything now, he could detect the slight creep of her unease with his tendrils. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment before she fumbled with the controls in the cockpit and Kit observed her as he recognized her habit of double and triple checking things when she was anxious. It was not something he liked to see her do, and he spoke, if only to have her stop the action.

"We'll deliver the crates, just as planned."

Her hands idled and lips pursed before she glanced up at him slowly. "Should we tell him?"

Kit considered her question, deliberating for only two seconds. "Yes."

She nodded as if she already expected his answer. "I would have gone either direction with it. Either way, we'll be explaining our ignorance or our innocence."

He wasn't sure if it was his headache or something else, but he sensed a flicker of scrutiny from her. Not surprisingly, he blinked and it was gone, if it was ever there at all. Musings aside, he rose from the chair and holstered his blaster, inclining his head to the men outside the cockpit window.

"Ready?"

Aayla nodded and rose from her chair as well. "I'll check on the crates once more."

Kit licked his lips. Were she any other jedi, a younger knight or padawan perhaps, he would have addressed her nervousness, but he pushed it aside because now was certainly not the time for personal advice or condescension.

"Alright, I'll head out first then."

He followed her steps down the metal corridor leading out from the cockpit, but before it deviated to the cargo bay, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"See if you can find any hidden compartments."

She nodded again and turned and he watched the sway of her lekku for another moment before he continued outside. He made his way to the exit and punched the controls to lower the ramp.

It sank to the ground slowly and he considered what he was walking out to; a dangerous liaison, partly the reason he allowed Aayla to rustle aimlessly though rigged cargo. If this was a trap, then at least she could leave when it was sprung on him.

Nar Shaddaa's night air blasted through the widening ramp's gap, replacing the ship's stale recycled air and nestling its gritty, metallic tang in the back of his throat. As he walked down, Kit let the moon's heavy humidity return the elasticity back to his skin, enjoying the recovery from the arid ship, but his whole body was tense. His stride was casual as he descended the ramp and even though the blaster's butt was foreign, his hand felt magnetically drawn to it as it swayed past his hip.

A quick sweep of his eyes around docking bay fifty-seven imprinted the hanger into his mind. He was trained to observe an environment with the greatest scrutiny and he did so now with all of his attention. With his eyes he absorbed the tightening grips of hands on blasters, of stacked storage crates that could be used for cover, and with the Force, he was aware of every gully rat that scurried through the hanger and of the apprehensive intentions of the men standing ahead of him. They watched him, anticipating the moment when he stepped off the ramp and they heard the thud of his boots on the ground, finally away from the safety of the ship.

Standing loosely in the center of six men, the Zabrak waited, and Kit could scent him above the other men, his inflamed annoyance rippling across the short distance to him.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the triggermen spat at him.

Taking the question as a sign this was a good stopping distance, Kit cocked his head at the speaker and let a slight smirk tug at the corner of his mouth as he folded his arms. "Ryn," he replied and looked over the pale human. "Not that it matters to you."

"But it matters to me." The zabrak stepped forward, his features matching the image from Lux's memories. Horns crowned only his head and left his tanned face bare of the bony projections, but not from deep patterned ink. Kit was now absolutely certain of his identity.

Fel wasn't armed with a blaster, but his voice was loaded and dangerous. "How did you get a hold of this shipment? And where's Jek?"

Kit answered the same. "I told you: _Lux is dead_. He was making bad decisions. Like bartering new spice to the highest bidder and blanking out." He feigned anger, the swirls of his eyes intensifying to match his charade. "That karking bantha cost me my ship. So I took his."

Arms crossed, Fel only blinked as he mulled over the information, then he was eyeing him, down to his boots then back up at his eyes. He seemed to buy his story.

"Ok, where's my shipment then, _Ryn_?" His eyes flitted above Kit's shoulder into the ship.

"Hold on to your horns, I got your shipment. Now when do I get paid?" Kit asked, jabbing a thumb at himself.

"You get your payment when I get my shipment and make sure that everything is fine," the Zabrak said coldly. He brushed past him and started his way to the _Dancer._ "Take me to them."

Four of the men followed him, and Kit had no choice but to comply. He lead the way back up the loading ramp, fully aware of the blasters at his back, and he sincerely hoped Aayla did not have any of the crates opened. They entered the cargo hold and to his relief she was sitting on an empty storage crate, scrolling furiously through a datapad.

She looked up from it immediately and raised an eyebrow at how cluttered the cargo bay had suddenly become. "Is there a problem, boss?"

He raised a brow too surprised at her slip into character, and how she appeared perfectly at ease, even with Fel and his triggermen breathing down their backs.

"Nothing we can't handle," Kit retorted.

"And you are?" Fel demanded irritably.

She batted away his contempt with an eyelash and stood up, unaffected by it. "Jaayza," she answered and held out the datapad so he would have to walk to her to get it. "Here are your crates."

Kit saw the small interaction as Aayla offered a smile that was equally polite as it was pretentious and Fel regarded her with the same piqued look he had when they spoke over the holocomm. The zabrak snorted humorlessly and stepped forward to take the datapad from her.

Fel examined the pad and scrutinized the crates, checking the seals, before nodding to four of his men to start unloading them.

As the first two crates were taken out of the ship, Kit turned to Fel. "Everything in order then?"

The Zabrak studied the datapad one last time and tucked it under his arm. "It appears so."

He glared at both of them before rolling his tongue over his teeth and contemplated something in his mind. Though he could not sense any outward thoughts through Fel's closed mind, Kit could sense that he was angrily reluctant to give them a benefit of a doubt. Kit knew Fel was probably used to being in control over many operations, and he and Aayla, together with the missing Jek Lux, were screwing up his clockwork routine.

With an impatient sigh, Fel continued. "Everybody who brings a shipment in waits at the cantina down the street until everything's been cleared. When it does, I'll disperse payment." He flicked two fingers at a pair of his men. "My men will escort you there."

"We want to talk about the Dust first."

Fel gave Aayla a cold glare and turned around to leave.

"I don't," he said, walking out of the cargo hold.

"Then you should probably know about the vertex then."

He froze in the doorway.

"What about it?" He demanded, not bothering to face them.

"They might be loaded," Kit answered and watched the horned near-human release a slow heated breath, pressuring anger building up in him.

Fel looked at him, then down the ramp to his men outside.

"Ruko," he barked. "Do any of the crates look opened or altered in any way? Check the seals. _Thoroughly_."

"They haven't been touched," they heard Ruko answer.

"Check _again_."

"I'm sure, Boss."

Fel stalked back and stabbed a finger at both of them. "Wait in the cantina," he ordered and inclined his head at the crates being taken off the ship. "But, if anything's wrong, I will _personally_ find you, Ryn," he seethed.

Kit stared back impassively at Fel's dark eyes, knowing the male was challenging him to look away from his lethal gaze.

"Azil, Marn," Fel spoke, eyes still locked with his, "Show our friends, the way to the Kath Hound so they don't get lost."

The two men flanked he and Aayla, their blasters trained at their backs, and motioned them to the exit ramp.

**-[{-}]-**

"Does your boss always give an armed escort?" Kit asked the Weequay thug whose blaster muzzle occasionally tapped his back.

"Our blasters aren't for your protection," the alien grunted.

Kit shook his head. "And here I thought this was just a bad neighborhood."

"Keep walking."

Despite the circumstances, Aayla stifled a grin at Kit's attempt to diffuse the tension. It calmed her nerves slightly knowing that he was not as restive as before, even though they were making their way down a narrow, dusky promenade to the cantina accompanied by Fel's men.

The stroll was not a long one, at least a minute's walk from the docking bay. The Kath Hound waited at the end of the ochre-tinged street, its neon-orange sign barely outshining the rusty walls.

As the cantina loomed closer with each step, Aayla began to prepare for the next wave of events that would occur. They would wait there until Fel discovered for himself about the rigged shipment. It was only a matter of _when_ he would. And after that? She chewed her bottom lip in thought. She did not know how the zabrak would react. If they couldn't convince him of their innocence, they might end up in a dangerous situation, outnumbered and outgunned.

Her lightsaber was juggling in her satchel hanging off her shoulder, hiding conspicuously amongst hydrospanners and other tools, and she was not concerned of its discovery if it was confiscated. With Kit, she had no clue. She quickly glanced at him to see if he'd hidden it on his person, but saw no hints of it nesting in the folds of his tunic.

She peered up at his face and found him watching at her. Answering her thoughts, he shook head slightly but wagged a tendril-tip assuring her not to worry.

A bit late for that. She knew what kind of men these were and what tended to happen if you angered them, which they have succeeded in doing numerous times in the very short time they've been on Nar Shaddaa.

At the Kath Hound's entrance they were stopped by an Iktotchi with a long geometric tattoo that ran down the left side of his face.

"How's it going, boys?"

The Weequay jerked his head at Kit and Aayla. "Got ourselves a pair of squibs, Syyf. You know the drill: Fel wants 'em without their guns."

Syyf looked them over, his eyes stopping at the vibroknives strapped to their boots. He ran a stumped remnant of his left index finger over an almost fully healed horn. "Heh, alright. Hand over your blasters."

Kit unholstered his blaster and handed it to the Iktotchi; Aayla did the same, reaching into her tool satchel.

"Whoa." Syyf peered into her pouch. "Sorry, Sweetheart, gotta leave your bag with me, too. Don't want you using a hydrospanner with extra attachments."

She frowned slightly. "Can I grab what I need?"

The Iktotchi's hardened face broke into something resembling a grimace more than a smile. "Sure thing. Just leave things that can shoot the innocent people in this cantina out here with me."

Aayla grabbed her datapad, the most incriminating item she had, even though she double encrypted the data.

Satisfied with her choice, Syyf nodded and stepped out of the way. "Enjoy your drinks and stay out of trouble."

As they stepped through the threshold of the cantina, they were greeted with the probing scan of the diverse patrons; a blatant scrutiny discerning friend from foe. The henchmen steered them to the left side of the cantina.

"Wait here until Fel says otherwise," the Weequay commanded, bringing them to a row of empty booths.

Deciding on a table close to the bar, Kit moved to sit down at it but was stopped by the other man.

"There's an open table right there," the human told him, gesturing to one right next to them that was still covered with the remnants of what they assumed was a former patron's meal.

Kit looked at the soiled table, then down at four other empty ones and back at him. The human held his gaze, silently challenging him to object.

An unusual surge of annoyance throbbed off him, and Aayla stepped in with a hand on his arm. "Right here is fine, Boss."

"Alright," he grunted in acknowledgement before taking a seat.

Appeased, the two triggermen turned and Aayla watched them occupy seats on the other side of the cantina's bar as she settled across from Kit at their booth. With thinned lips, he swatted his hand to clear the larger crumbs aside with the Force and he gingerly placed his elbows on the table. He caught her eye, since his back was to the retreating men.

"They're gone," she leaned over. "But they can still keep an eye on us from there," she whispered and nodded at Azil and Marn across the cantina. "They're between us and the door."

Kit turned around to see the men watching them. "Looks like they can see us wherever we go in here."

Aayla nodded in agreement and leaned back in her chair folding her arms.

"Probably also why they let us keep our vibroknives."

"To give us a sense of power before they surround us and shoot until we're nothing but carbonized bone," he added lamely, scanning the cantina.

She juggled a small chunk of food across the table with the Force before glancing up at him. "So, how do you think we're doing?" She wanted to know his opinion of the mission so far and since the cockpit, he seemed preoccupied with something in his mind.

"Well," he looked back at her and brought his hands up and rested his chin on them." We seem to be doing okay. For now." He shrugged. "Judging by their conversations, the treatment we are receiving appears to extend to any newcomer, not just us."

"Squibs, you mean?" she corrected him with a slight smile. It was slightly amusing that they were compared to the furry haggling, kleptomanic inhabitants of Skor II.

"Right..." he smirked, "...squibs."

She watched his smirk disappear and twist into a frown. His eyes darkened and he stared beyond the debris on the table. After half a minute of silence, she started to become unnerved by his intense silence.

"What's on your mind?" she prodded gently. She couldn't make sense of the thoughts she felt from him. They were rushed, sporadic, and fleeting.

He squinted as if trying to recall something.

"I think I know where the rest of the vertex is." He rubbed his temple. "Somewhere...on the ship."

She raised her eyebrows. This was good news.

"It won't take Fel long to figure out about it."

His shoulders dipped slightly. "Nope. He's not going to like it much, either."

"It will of course make bargaining with him all the more difficult. We'll have to play our cards right. I doubt he'll believe us any way."

"I don't expect him to believe us, but he has no choice."

"Neither do we." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Azil and Marn stand up and converse with three other men. They were the other men from the hanger. One of them was Fel, and they had their blasters drawn.

She nodded at the men who were now making their way to them." Looks like he found out."

"I take it you guys aren't joining us to have a drink and enjoy each other's company," Kit said when they drew near.

Fel didn't smile. "Let's go."

* * *

The Zabrak eyed Kit. "Where's the other half of my karking shipment?"

Blasters were pointed at them.

Aayla was keenly aware of the two that were at her neck and back. Fel hadn't asked her any direct questions. Most of his attention, and _ire_, were at Kit. She assumed it was because he was another male, but that didn't mean she was not a part of the argument. Occasionally Fel would glare at her, but Kit was doing an excellent job on his own.

He smirked, perfectly calm amidst the heated tension of the room. "You know as well as I that your cargo is locked with coded seals. Seals of which are unique and cannot be forged. I'm also aware that most suppliers rig their crates with various...anti-theft mechanisms."

His smirk widened when he said the last part. "If we opened them, you would know. Otherwise we'd look like your friend over there." He nodded at one of Fel's thugs with a large jagged scar that ran down his face.

Snarling, the triggerman moved forward and brought his blaster down on Kit's face. Aayla winced as she saw the welt appear almost immediately under his eye.

Fel held up his hand. "Wait, Lon." Lon stepped back but continued to aim at his face.

"How did you know it was rigged?" Fel pressed.

Rolling his head up, Kit's answer was more sober than last. "You think I'd just take his ship without knowing everything about it inside and out?"

Fel was still unimpressed. "And you expect me to believe that Lux just _told_ you about the rigged shipment?" he countered, face unchanged.

"He told me about the shipment, after a bit of... persuasion. Whoever he made this deal with to set you up wouldn't recognize him after I finished with him. Jek Lux is as slippery as a greased dug. He'd sure as hell switch his alliances with the right amount of credits."

"And how do I know that you aren't as slippery as him, Ryn? What keeps me from ordering my men to shoot you and your pretty friend here? You could be working with Lux or worse, a mynock trying to suck his way into my operation."

Kit shrugged, looking indifferent.

"Believe what you want to believe, Fel. Jek _owed_ me, for selling me new spice, blanking out with my credits, and costing me my ship in the process."

The delivery of his words was perfect and when he shook his head, Aayla was impressed with his charade. She would have believed he was truly cheated from the smuggler. Apparently, so did Fel.

The Zabrak studied Kit for a moment and sat on the edge of the short table. "Why return here then? You had his ship, the vertex. I'm angry that you even deemed to come here in the first place."

Aayla lifted her chin. "Opportunity."

Fel faced her slowly with a scornful expression that annoyed her. "With rigged cargo?"

"With Dust," she shot back, pleased with the surprise on the Zabrak's inked face.

His face hardened and he straightened his back, crossing his arms across his armored chest.

"And what would you possibly do with Dust?"

"We're Jedi Hunters," Kit revealed.

Fel glanced over at Aayla, gauging her reaction, a sneer pulling his lips.

"You seem surprised."

She dampened her lips before slowly pursing them unhappily. "It's not something we reveal often." She did not risk shooting a look at Kit across the table.

"_Jedi Hunters_..." he echoed slowly and rose from the table and scratched his chin. A pleased grin spread across his face. He circled the table and pointed at Kit.

"You, I can understand, but, _you_," he wagged a finger at her and his eyes took a slow route over her body. "I find it hard to believe."

She ignored his leer and the fleeting thought that she could easily dispatch him and his men in a matter of seconds were the roles of this interrogation switched. "I'm his mechanic," she answered evenly. "I fix his ship and build his equipment."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Well, Jedi Hunters, you'll find no opportunity here. You've got a lot of nerve coming here with loaded cargo, and cleverly answering every question I throw at you."

There was finality to his words and Aayla felt their opportunity to find out more about dust was slipping, so she tried something bold.

"Hire us and we'll cover the missing half of the shipment."

Every eye in the room turned to her.

"The missing half?" Fel regarded Aayla suspiciously from across the room. "Tell me also," he asked and clutched his temples with his hand. "How is it that you conveniently carry crystalline vertex in the exact amount that is missing?

"Because whoever bought Lux gave him the other half of your shipment. We knew it was rigged, as we've told you before. So, we knew to offer it to you in exchange for employment."

"Employment? You're extorting me now?" the Zabrak asked incredulously. "What could I possibly need you for?"

Aayla smiled sweetly. "Be creative."

Fel blinked and then a sneer pulled at his upper lip.

"Alright," he nodded and gestured for his men to lower their weapons. "How good are you with a blaster?"

"Good enough," Kit chimed in.

"Okay then, Ryn. I have an assignment for you and Jaayza. My employer has a warehouse in this Sector, Lower levels. I need you to get a few items from there; specifically, four crates of sansanna spice. If you can grab double that, you'll impress me."

Aayla knew there was a catch and so did Kit because his smirk challenged Fel's.

"Should be a blue milk run, then," he said.

Fel's smirk widened. "Should be if you were able to take care of Lux."

"When do you need them?"

"In nine hours."

"Fine. We'll give you half the vertex now, and half when we get return with your spice."

"Look for a human named Vesik at the Kath Hound." Fel tossed a crimson credit chip to Kit. "Here's your money. Don't spend it all at once, you're gonna need it."

* * *

_**A/n:**_

_Soooo, everything went alright for Kit and Aayla, sort of, but will everything continue to go as smoothly?_

_1. Do you think this assignment really is a Blue Milk Run? What do you think will happen?_

_2. Will Kit saying that they are Jedi Hunters come back to bite them in the choobies?_

_3. Why were the crates on the Dancer rigged to begin with?_

_4. Just how good is Kit with a blaster?_

_Please review! I do so love and cherish every one I receive and more would make me furiously type more chapters like Mozart composing a new sonata. Thanks everyone who's done them so far! Also, thank you invisible readers who give me a ton of hits and views. Won't you drop by and leave a hello? :)_


	5. Here on Business

_**A/n: Sorry for the delay once again, but I had big projects to finish that demanded my full attention.**_

_**I do appreciate your feedback tremendously, and special thanks to DoubleEO, darthritter86, IzzyandDesRoxSox, and recey2010 for awesome reviews on the last chapter.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Here on Business**

"I want to see it with my eyes," Fel demanded, standing once more in the doorway of the _Dancer's_ cargo hold, waiting for Kit to hand over half of the remaining shipment.

Kit brushed passed him and made his way to the hold's console. As he began to scroll through it, not fully certain of what he was looking for, he wished he had more time, or at least less pressure to draw up Lux's quickly dissipating memory of the code. With Fel and two of his men at his back again, it was not the best of circumstances.

He passed through cargo inventory, workbench schematics, ramp controls, but nothing about the smuggling compartment holding the crystalline vertex. Not reassuring, since he knew it was right there, inches away from Aayla's foot.

She sat on a crate stacked against the console and peered over his hands at the screen. He continued to scroll through the system, slower now, in case he'd missed something the first couple times.

Aayla stopped his hands and clicked on Swoop Repair, tapping the screen twice to affirm her selection. He looked at her quizzically and she nodded. He returned his gaze to the screen and stared at the blinking cursor awaiting his code entry.

It was a basic code, a single phrase followed by a string of numbers, and he closed his eyes as he envisioned the imprint of Lux entering it into the console, letting his hands mimic what he remembered of the smuggler's until the last digit- where the memory got hazy. It could have been a five, six, or eight.

He punched in six and hit enter.

Red filled the screen along with an irritated buzz. _Strike one._

He tried eight.

Wrong again.

"Is there a _problem_?"

Aayla's slight anxiety reached him and Fel's question went unanswered as he reentered the code, ignoring her worried gaze.

"Yeah. Lux's ship has one of the worst computing systems I've seen."

With a hiss, the inconspicuous compartment opened and he exchanged a small grin with Aayla. She jumped off the crate, bending to look inside it, and he peered with hesitant anticipation over her shoulder.

He was holding his breath, and he released it through gritted teeth when the three remaining crates finally made themselves known from their hiding spot. Aayla helped him lift one out and they placed it on the grated floor, opening it so everyone could see its contents.

Fel flicked his tongue over his teeth and stared plainly at the crystalline vertex. He nodded at his men to grab it.

"I'll be back to pick up the rest later, along with the sansanna spice. If you can get it." The Zabrak turned on his heel and started to leave the ship. "They'd better be _full_ when I get them."

Kit sighed when the triggermen were already down the ramp. "Thank-you for that." When he was certain the zabrak's horns and ears were beyond range, he turned to look at her. "How did you know?"

A lekku tip swayed forward; a shrug in her people's society. "Practice," she explained. "Quin always taught me to look for what was in plain sight. A smuggler's weapon is conspicuity. _Swoop Repair_. Racers like to use their holds as hangers for their swoops, but no swoop can fit through that exit ramp."

He followed her pointed finger to the ramp. _Of course_. If he had been given much more time to work out the code, he'd have figured it out eventually. Possibly. He was hit with the hard realization that he was stretching himself too thinly between everything to that it was affecting his performance. He was busy trying to gauge the situation, gauge every little action and thought, to gauge _her_, because he was pulling her in as deep as he was.

He pursed his lips, unhappy with his acknowledgment. "Let's not run off assumptions any more than we have to. Can your datapad handle more information?"

With a nod, she joined him at the hold's console, ready to sync the information off of it. "What was the password?"

"'Nalora- 5625."

"Interesting."

"How?"

"It seems personal. A name, perhaps. Are we going to change it?"

"I think it hardly matters. Fel knows where the rest of the vertex is. If he wanted to, he could kill us now that we haven't got any more leverage."

She agreed. "But he needs us. As expendables. Maybe we can tip the scales back our way."

_Expendables_. The word alone spoke volumes of their job. When Fel had mentioned it, he'd seemed resigned to their failure of what sounded like a fairly easy task.

"For what exactly? I've a feeling this won't be a blue milk run. Something is preventing them from getting to that warehouse."

Gangs, opposing crime syndicates, the vilest of scum the galaxy had to offer. The list went on in his mind, the same as it did in hers.

"Let's find Vesik."

She stowed the datapad somewhere on her person, a place he was unsure of, because he couldn't find the bulky piece of technology jutting out from the curves of her body.

For once, they walked on the grungy, dusky surface of Nar Shaddaa unaccompanied by Fel's men as they made their way back to the Kath Hound.

"How much did he pay?" she asked, harboring a small feeling of excitement over their successful smuggling deal.

Kit activated the credit chip and the numerical amount appeared on the holodisplay. "Six thousand."

She was impressed. "Not bad."

"It's very good actually." Not that he had very many deals of the kind to compare to, but he certainly wasn't expecting so much.

"We make a good team."

He nodded with a smile. "That we do, Partner."

The vivid placard of the cantina drew near, and they were stopped by Syyf.

"Weapons."

Aayla arched an eyebrow at him. "You _took_ our weapons, remember?"

The Iktotchi squinted, remembering them. "Right. The Arkanian JV-35 heavy disrupter and the Zabrak Tystel mark III in the bag of tools," he said without missing a beat.

"That's us."

He handed back their weapons. "Pretty heavy blaster for a mechanic," the bouncer commented when he gave Aayla back her tool satchel.

She smiled at him slightly. "It's nice to have just in case."

"You aren't the type to cause trouble are you?"

Her smile widened. "Not usually."

"Good." Syyf scratched his chin and shrugged. "I wouldn't want those blasters go off in here and have to use mine to stop them."

"You don't have to worry about anything."

The Kath Hound's weapons extraordinaire stepped aside and allowed them entry into the cantina.

"Enjoy yourselves."

Although the drinking establishment didn't feel as hostile as when they first arrived, the two Jedi kept their guard up, regardless of how more or less inviting it had become.

Kit scanned the cantina, receiving the scrutinizing glances the patrons gave them as they entered before returning back to their own business; Aayla seemed to hold their gaze for a second longer.

"We should split up, since you seem to have a knack to attract attention," he said.

"Alright."

**-[{-}]-**

Aayla lost track of the cluster of tendrils disappearing into a crowded section of the cantina as she made her way to the bar, a kaleidoscope of brightly lit drinks of which a motley collection of denizens enjoying the local rocket fuel clustered around. She managed to find a spot on the counter.

"Whaddya have?" the blue-haired human bartender asked her.

She made her decision from the rainbow of spirits behind him. "Corellian ale."

A hand to the right of her slid ten credits at the bartender. "I got her tab, Lesh."

Aayla looked at the buyer of her drink, a mousy-haired human, with a slim build and confidant smirk she was sure he used to win over many females.

The man flashed his smirk at her. _Predictable_.

She smiled politely, offering her thanks.

"No problem." He waved it off, peered at her from the side of his face. "You're new here, I can tell. Haven't seen you around before."

"I'm here on business."

"Who isn't?" he said casually, smoothing his hair like it was unruly as the crowd around them. "I doubt anyone here is purely at this establishment for the local rocket fuel. What business brings you here to the 'Hound?"

She knew he was fishing for information, and he was very good it at. Except with her. "My business is my own," she said delicately.

The man widened his smirk, "C'mon. I bought your drink. You could at least tell me why you're here."

She chewed her lower lip.

"You don't have to name names or goods, just the job. Shipment? Pickup? Interview?"

"I'm looking for someone."

His face lit up. "I can help you with that. Who ya looking for?"

"Someone named Vesik."

"Well you don't have to look far,"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Why is that?"

To her surprise, and annoyance, his cocky smirk grew even wider than she thought possible. "Because your business just suddenly became mine."

She looked him over. "You're Vesik?"

"Yup, and you are?"

"Jaayza."

"Well, Jaayza, I helped you find who you were looking for. What else can I help you with?"

"Fel said to find you about a certain assignment."

"I see. What else did he say?"

Aayla found Kit again in the crowded cantina, sitting at an empty booth. He signaled the question and she answered him with a nod.

"I think we should discuss this in a more private setting," she said, moving away from the counter. "My partner has a booth where we can speak more freely."

Vesik eyed Kit warily as they made their way to him. "You didn't tell me you were with someone," he complained.

"He's my employer. I fix his ship and he pays me for it," she stoically replied. "We also occasionally take on side jobs, like this one, for extra creds."

The two unlikely business partners reached the table Kit was occupying.

Aayla saw he sat casually, slouching slightly on the booth bench, and sipped an orange-colored liquid from a glass before standing up to greet them.

"So you're Vesik, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And you are?"

"Ryn."

Both males stared the other down, eyes surveying the rivaling mass of testosterone in a silent battle of dominance over the other.

Aayla glanced from the Nautolan to the Human, still fascinated at how the natural male trait of clout wasn't lost between species. It intrigued her whenever she was on a mission with Quinlan and things went his way.

She asked him how he did it, and her former master had explained that it was _what_ you did that was the most important thing; presence, voice, facial expressions, whatever you believed would work. It could be exposing the extra hulk of muscle, the gruff addition to vocal intonation, the confidant grin to bewitch an unsuspecting female, or giving the illusion of concession by means of humility and courtesy. Quin added with a wink and a smile that she did the same thing, with her attire and the advantage it gave her over males underestimating her capabilities.

These things Aayla kept in mind as she tried to determine Kit and Vesik's own methods. The stranger knew he had lost any hope of physical intimidation over Kit's taller, solid physique and smirked, rejoicing in the personal satisfaction that he possessed propitious information that they both needed.

"Please, sit down and we'll talk." Kit answered Vesik with a smirk of his own, aware of his loss of knowledge but victory of intimidation.

Aayla felt the tension subside and took a seat beside Kit; Vesik sat across from them.

"What do you know about a warehouse in this sector that holds sansanna spice?" she asked.

The brown-haired contact raised his eyebrows. "Sansanna spice?" Then stopped, holding up his hands. "Whoa, wait. Hold up a sec, Sapphire. Has Fel told you how I work?"

A flare of slight annoyance rose within her at the pet-name and pursed her lips in mild irritation.

"Okay, I normally charge creds for the information I know," the human continued, "but, I'll accept another form of payment. I'll tell you about that warehouse and you tell me how Fel pinned this Sarlacc-pit job on you. He doesn't normally send newbies on quests like this."

"Alright." Kit replied, grateful that they didn't have to spend money. "We brought in a shipment that was rigged."

"Of course Fel was pissed." Vesik nodded like this was common knowledge. "How'd you two get ahold of his stuff? These goods don't just get handed off to people on the street. I know the _Dancer_ is back, but it's _owner_ isn't."

Aayla stole a glance at Kit. "News spreads fast."

Vesik smirked again. "Yeah, I always know something's up, otherwise, I wouldn't be charging for what I know." His smirk faltered slightly. "But, what happened to Jek is something I don't know, unfortunately. "

"It's like we told Fel," Kit continued, "Jek was making bad decisions. Blanking out after bartering new spice to the highest bidder was one of them. My ship was the one who suffered most."

Something like a sad grimace appeared for a moment on his lips before he added, "so I took the _Dancer_."

"And the shipment?"

"It was on the ship when I took it. Fel thinks we rigged it."

"Did you?"

Kit glanced at Aayla then back at him. "No," they both said in unison.

A small grin appeared on Vesik's face. "Of course not."

Silence stopped their conversation.

"And Jek? You still didn't tell me what happened to him."

The hint of a smirk tugged at Kit's mouth. "Don't worry about him. He's in trouble if he sees Fel, or Fel's Boss."

Vesik's eyebrow's disappeared behind his brown bangs covering his forehead. "What happened?"

"Someone paid him to bring in the rigged shipment."

The human tilted his head in question, but Kit only shrugged.

"Fel must think there's more than meets the eye with you two because now we're sitting here in this cantina. He could have killed you for returning a fixed payload, then again, this job..." he trailed off, drawing his own conclusions why the Zabrak would hire them.

"But one more thing before I give you what you want: Why _did_ he give you the job?"

Aayla smiled. "Because we asked for one," she stated plainly. "We offered him back the missing half in exchange for employment."

"Missing half of what? Glitter? Deathsticks?"

"Crystalline vertex."

"Whoa! Half of that was missing? And Fel let you walk out of there alive? Wouldn't he have noticed when you brought it in?"

"Half of it was gone, but the locks and timers said it was all there. We knew about it and told him. I think you may have witnessed our little parade out of here about an hour ago."

"Yeah, I did."

"We straightened everything out with Fel."

"And yet you still asked him for a job." He shook his head. "Wow, you guys must either be really desperate or get a kick out of working for people you just pissed off."

Kit gave a small grin. "A little of both."

The brown-haired human grinned too, satisfied with the answer. "Alright then, my turn to talk. You asked about sansanna spice right?"

"In a warehouse in this sector."

"Yeah, the Big Bosses own two here that hold sansanna. One is wiped out clean, because the other one is currently inaccessible."

Aayla gave an impatient sigh. She was tired of everyone dancing around the subject. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means: you don't have access. Even if there was, you wouldn't want to go there." Vesik leaned closer over the table, his speech becoming increasingly animated with each word that rolled off his pierced tongue. "Last week, some rival swoopies get at it in a fight that turns into a shootout-stabbing. You think, hey, that happens everywhere on the Vertical City, right?" He looked at them, half-expecting an answer.

Kit responded with a half-grin to show the human he was mildly interested, or at least listening.

"Well, you don't want it happening on the Lower Levels. Some of the galaxy's worst slime parade down there, but the Lower Levels really belong to the Verbs," Vesik glanced at Aayla. "So, an answer to your question, Sweet splash: Inaccessible means you don't want to go down there. I mean, unless you're suicidal or something."

"Verbs?"

"Don't tell me you took on this job without knowing what Verbs are." The human looked at both Jedi, eyes wide in mild surprise. Kit wasn't familiar with the term and was going to respond as such, but Aayla answered before he could.

"We're familiar with Verbs," she said a tad bit tersely than was necessary. "I've been down there before."

Vesik raised his eyebrows. "Well you must have done something right since you're here talking to me and not torn into ribbons of meat."

"So how do we get access to this 'inaccessible' warehouse?"

He clicked his tongue. "Well, that's for you to figure out. The Boss currently can't get in to get what he needs, and he really can't wait either."

"Is that it?" Kit asked.

Vesik shrugged. "That's all I guess."

"Well, thanks, for your help."

"Yeah."

They both got up to leave. "Hang on," the human's hand shot out and grabbed Aayla's wrist.

She looked pointedly at it until he removed it before glancing up at him with an arched eyebrow. "Yes?"

"You guys are crazy for taking this job. Like, ten guys have died just trying to get into the warehouse. They didn't even _touch_ the crates of spice before the verbs got to them."

"Your point?"

"Uh, I think I can help you."

"How?"

"Those crates are pretty heavy. I mean, you can carry them and stuff, but you'll have verbs right on your tail. You're gonna need something to lug those crates back up here."

"And you have something we can use, but not for free, right?"

"I got a older Aratech swoop bike collecting rust in a garage. What you pay me is insurance, in case you guys don't come back to return it."

"How much?" Aayla asked.

"For you guys, sixteen hundred."

"Fine." Kit didn't argue. They really didn't have a choice; Vesik could have said five thousand and they'd still pay him.

"Alright. I'll bring the bike to the Dancer then. Still in bay fifty-seven, right?"

"Yes." He was slightly caught off guard by Vesik's knowledge of their technicalities.

"Meet you in fifteen minutes then."

They nodded their agreement to him and made their way towards the exit.

"So," Kit said as they left the cantina, nodding to Syyf on the way out, "Care to tell me what Verbs are? I'm not exactly familiar with them."

"Vrblthers. Bipedal, sharp claws," she looked him over, "about a whole head taller in height than you. Think of a Super Battle droid, with speed of a Nexu, and claws like knuckle-plate vibroblades. More than one. They travel in packs."

He grimaced at the mental image her description formed.

"They're attracted to the smell of blood and tend to stay around a place they know has it."

"And you know this because you were down here before?"

"Not exactly."

Kit stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Quin has been down there more times than he'd like. He told me about them. "

"So...you've never been down there, or actually encountered Verbs?"

"No, and from what Quin told me, this is definitely not a blue milk run." She bit her lip and faced him. "We also have some problems."

His grin was humorless and desperate. "What could possibly be a problem, other than the fact that neither of us has been to where we are going or fought what we are about to fight?"

"We can't use our weapons that we normally use."

"Well, I'm assuming Quinlan has vanquished them without his weapons before, right?"

"Yes, but..." She didn't really want to tell him that her former Master never said he had defeated one. She waved her hand dismissing his concern. "We've got fifteen hours now though. It should be more than enough time."

* * *

"So what do you make of this Vesik character?" Kit asked as he checked and rechecked his blaster for any lockups or malfunctions; the last thing he needed was for his weapon to jam while in verb-controlled territory.

After a thorough-scouring of the ship to make sure Fel and his men didn't install listening devices, the two Jedi continued they're conversation on the _Blue Dancer_. They really only had time to gather their weapons before Vesik came to drop off the bike.

"What about him? He helped us for free, I'll give him that much," Aayla responded impassively. "And I guess he did pay for my drink."

"But beyond that, you don't like him."

"Not particularly. I'm sure you could sense that."

"Yes, even without scenting your pheromones."

"In truth, I was annoyed; with his arrogant swagger and quick assumption that he could win me over." She sighed. "And the pet names," she added.

"What were they? Sapphire, Sweet Splash..."

"_Please_, do not remind me," she groaned.

Kit laughed. "Alright. Remind me not to pay for your drink then."

"That is different, Kit. You are my friend, and I would reciprocate the gesture. Besides, you aren't buying my drink to woo me."

"Woo?" He echoed with a grin. The term seemed to flow awkwardly in her fluid accent and he wondered if the word came into her vocabulary from Quinlan Vos.

"Yes, woo. Are you familiar with the term?" she asked him in seriousness.

"Oh yes, I am. It's just, it sounds odd when you say it," he chuckled.

Aayla made a face at him. "Are you making fun of me, Kit?"

His grin grew wider. "Of course not."

"Will you bring your lightsaber?

"Yes, but just in case."

She dumped her lightsabers into her satchel. "Ready, then?"

Kit nodded. "All set."

They walked together down the _Dancer'_s ramp and saw Vesik dismounting a swoop bike.

"Hey, hey!" They heard their new found companion yell to them in the hanger. "You guys seem to match that ship better than Jek ever did," he said when he got closer to them. "Hey, even the name fits too," Vesik added.

At the remention of the ship's title, a sigh escaping Aayla's lips joined a reproachful glare directed at Kit, who failed to repress a smirk.

"We haven't had time to make our own adjustments," he replied, handing the human the sixteen hundred credits. "But, we'll get to them eventually."

The mousy-haired human raised his eyebrows at the payment. "Wow, I karking love you two! I didn't even have to ask."

"Boss, here, is very punctual," Aayla chimed in. "He's always on time, and hates to be delayed." She lowered her voice. "Especially when others are late to pay him."

Kit grunted an agreement. "And, if you two are done chatting, let's go before we are delayed any longer."

"Alright, then." Vesik led them to the speeder bike. "Here's the bike. Like I said, it's an older model, the Yellow Demon 100, but you know Aratech; they make top of the line swoops." He frowned. "It's too bad they sided with the Republic, though. Prices kill."

"Yeah. Now Aratech makes 'em for the Rep's Boys in white."

"Uh, what else...Oh yeah," he activated the touch-screen on the center of the handlebars, and amethyst bolts of energy shot out from beneath the thrusters of the swoop bike. "Energy-binders for the crates if you get them. That's about it. Hop on," he said and smacked the seats.

Aayla gestured to the bike. "You wanna fly, Boss?"

"Sure," he said with an amused smile and got on; Aayla followed suit, straddling him from behind on the extended seat.

Vesik handed them a datapad from his backpocket. "This is from Fel. Directions to the warehouse. Good luck."

Kit nodded and brought the speeder up over the hanger, acclimating himself with the controls. He tilted his head to speak to her.

"Where to?"

She scrolled through the datapad. "I'm syncing the coordinates with the speeder. Just a minute."

"Hey, Sweet Splash," Vesik called up to Aayla and pointed to her leg. "Watch out for that vent unless you want the Aratech logo branded backwards on your leg."

She shifted her leg and nodded her acknowledgment.

"Ready?"

A crimson flag marking the route to their destination appeared on the bike's control panel.

"Yes."

"Then hang on, Sweet Splash." He smirked, punching the controls, and they dashed into the urban cityscape.

* * *

Ungh. Sorry this chapter's iffy. Been hit with writer's block and IRL.

Just one question this chapter:

What do you think lies in store for Kit and Aayla at the warehouse?


	6. Blue Milk Run

_**A/n: Thanks again for the reviews! You guys inspire me to work faster.**_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Blue Milk Run**

Aayla barely had time to grab Kit's waist as her complaint was drowned out by the humid air whipping past them.

Never had she experienced such wild flying, and as Quinlan's former padawan, she'd seen and done her fair share, but Kit...

He flew the way he fought.

Like Form I: Shii-Cho, he was unpredictable and volatile, and great restraint was all that kept him between skirting the edge of control and total release to the Force. Kit dove into a skylane, slipping them into the stream of rocketing traffic, so much more deadly and turbulent than Coruscant's slightly more regulated ones. She was wrong to believe that he would stay in the stability of the lane for long, because soon he was diving, weaving, dipping, and veering between other bikes, airspeeders, and skyhoppers.

The speeder hummed easily when Kit dropped them into a slower skylane, a lazy flow of intermittent speeders with lethargic engines or occupants. He leaned back briefly, scouting their location, and she deemed it safe to release her grip on him slightly, when the speeder jolted forward and they were zooming again. She was almost blinded by the dizzying kaleidoscope of illuminated signs and placards of the Vertical city swirling around them.

If the thought of what awaited them at the warehouse didn't linger in her mind, she might have enjoyed the dangerous ride, but she clung to his belt, making a mental note that a good time spent in the 'fresher was in order due to the grime that had collected on her face.

As suddenly as they bolted into the night, they stopped, hovering in a less populated sector than all the ones they'd passed. Aayla finally removed her hands from his waist and rested them on her thighs, releasing an audible sigh.

"What was that?"

"What?" Kit tilted his head slightly, his tendrils swaying from the motion, tips brushing along her belly. The sensation was peculiar, and she wasn't sure if she tightened her gut to keep from squirming under the tickling touch or from fear that he could scent her so fully.

"In the hanger...do I need to address it?" He was being coy about the use of the pet-name.

"Oh, that."

She could feel his chest heaving in laughter. "It seemed appropriate."

Another sigh escaped her lips. "I'm never going to hear the end of this am I? I wonder why Master Yoda decided you and I were best for this mission."

"Just..." He looked around, trying to figure out best how to answer her question. "...playing the role of Ryn."

She arched in eyebrow and tilted forward slightly that he might see it. "It's a mystery to me why Jaayza puts up with him."

"Because he's charming, in a smuggler-pirate-sort of way," he concluded and flashed a wide grin.

She shook her head in confusion, before peering down at the dark Undercity below them. "Well," she exhaled, "This is it."

Kit peered down too, his grin falling to a serious look. "Ready?" he asked, the mirth from earlier no longer coating his voice.

"Yes."

The odd-sensation of free-fall wormed in her gut as Kit lowered their speeder into the depths of Nar Shaddaa's Undercity. The temperature dropped as they descended into the lower levels that had noticeably fewer and dimmer signs; there were no cantinas or clubs down here, at least, not the kind you'd want to be in. Unlike the higher levels that were controlled by crime lords, the Undercity truly belonged to the most unlawful and iniquitous of criminals. Even lower than that was a no-man's land where creatures even more deadly than vrblithers hunted.

He brought them deeper into the artificial canyon of dimming signs and broken windows.

"The warehouse is on the next street," he announced. "We'll just do a flyby first."

Coasting high above the warehouse, they surveyed their destination. From that height, they saw seven bipedal forms lurked near the entrance, and strewn across the platform in front of it were several bodies, torn and mangled beyond recognition.

"Now you know what verbs are," she whispered.

"I wish I hadn't asked," he mumbled. "There," he nodded to a derelict apartment building. "We can park on one of those balconies."

Kit took them up to a vista that looked unoccupied. It was difficult to determine if the building was abandoned or not; windows were shattered, but lights were still on. As he shut off the speeder, she silently hoped their unit was vacant.

Aayla swung her leg over the seat and walked to the railing, scrolling through the datapad from Fel.

"Anything?" he asked, joining her on the railing from which they had an unimpeded view of the warehouse directly below them.

"Just coordinates, images of the crates, and instructions for where to drop them off when we get them. Nothing else."

He smirked. "No step-by-step instructions?"

She clapped her hand on his shoulder. "We're on our own, Boss."

"So I guess they won't be helping us, then?" he asked, pointing to five armed men scattered atop buildings and platforms; each was positioned in direct view of the warehouse.

"Vesik didn't mention them," she said, while peering through electrobinoculars she had pulled from her satchel.

She passed them to him. "Do you think they're for us?"

"They don't seem to give us a second-glance. There could be more of them- yup," he confirmed. "Three more on that catwalk."

He put the binoculars down and looked at her. "I think we should be careful. Judging from their interest in us arriving, I'd say Fel has told them that we would be, but, if it _were _a trap, they might get us as we were leaving with the spice."

"It's also a possibility that they don't even work for Fel."

"That, too." The corner of the Jedi Master's mouth quirked up. "Now, how do you propose we get into the warehouse?"

She studied the building several stories below them, squinting at what looked like a hole or window on the roof. "What's that opening, there?"

"Sweet Splash," Kit said, the binoculars covering his eyes but not his wide smirk. "I think you just found our way in."

* * *

She knew that eight pairs of eyes were watching her from concealed perches, but she acted as if she didn't know they were there. Resting her weight on the speeder, she checked her blaster a third time, although she was quite sure it wouldn't jam in the two minutes she stood watch on the roof of the warehouse. But, it was better to be safe than dead; she had to keep her guard up. Kit was down there.

He _insisted_, in that chivalrous tone of his, that he would go first, not that he thought her ability incompetent, simply that, in this situation, his night vision surpassed her talent of infiltration. As a consolation, he admitted that her skill with a blaster bested his. Indeed, it did; the butt of the weapon felt as familiar to her as a hilt. Most Jedi shirked the uncivilized, foreign feel of the clunky arms, but Quin was no such Jedi. They were as elegant as their own weapons, he edified, and so would be used frequently on missions by master and padawan both.

"_All clear. Go ahead and bring her down,"_ Kit's smooth voice crackled on their comlink.

Reholstering her blaster and swinging her leg over the seat, Aayla powered up the Yellow Demon, conscientiously maneuvering the bike above the opening and releasing the pitch lever to lower it down into the warehouse.

_"Mind the durasteel beam."_

She avoided the twisted bar of the storage structure's framework, careening close to the edge of the opening.

"_Ah, the other one,"_ he warned, a bit too late, as the screech of scraping metal reverberated in the warehouse.

Almost immediately, the bike flipped on its side, and she had to lean quickly in the opposite direction to prevent it from barreling. After a shaky descent, she landed on a platform that Kit was waiting on.

He extended his hand to help her as she got off the bike, and she half-smiled at the gallant gesture, even though she was fully capable of stepping the distance from the stirrup to the floor.

"Are you alright?"

"_I_ am," she spoke, bending next to their transport to examine the damage. "But the speeder is not," she sighed.

He knelt beside her. "How bad is it?"

She gritted her teeth. "Pretty bad. We nicked open the left main repulsor. That's why it nearly barreled: half the micro-coils are out." She looked at him. "We won't fly out of here if we don't repair it."

"And can we? If we bend the plasteel back to direct the gravitic flow down again?"

Aayla shrugged. "It should work. For now, at least. We'll have to replace the micro-coils later."

"Once it's fixed can we get out of here quick?"

"I'm not sure. The engines are fine, but we might get a burn out with the combined weight of us and the crates if we work the repulsors to fast. Maneuvering will be troublesome if those men outside start shooting us."

"I'm not too worried about them at the moment."

"Why?" she asked, alarmed, only just noticing the corners of his mouth set in a grimace. "Are there verbs in here, too?"

"If there aren't, there will be soon." He avoided her eyes, pretending to looking around the expanse of the warehouse, and that's when she noticed the hastily wrapped band on his left forearm poorly covering a fresh cut.

"When did you get injured?"

"As I was coming down. I hit the beam," he said looking up at it. "You can't see it on the way down."

Instinctively, she reached out to run her fingers on his arm and examine the wound. "How bad?"

He brushed off her touch. "There's no point in fussing about it. We'll just have to find those crates faster."

Despite the turn of events, she felt like laughing at how he seemed to take everything in stride. "I know Fel said this was a blue milk run, Kit, but did you have to start _making_ problems?"

His grin appeared again and he shrugged. "I'm always looking for a challenge."

Aayla stood up and began searching through her tool satchel. "Alright then, I'll look for the crates while you," she pulled out a canister of animated metal sealant and handed it to him, "repair the bike."

Kit stood up too, hesitantly taking the can from her. "Why can't I find the crates?" he argued.

Her hands planted on her hips. "Because you're injured, and it will attract the verbs."

"A scratch is hardly enough to put me out of commission," he reassured her with another aloof grin. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I stayed behind and fixed the bike while you did all the manual labor?"

She raised her eyebrows at his question, answering tersely, "I'm fully capable of finding and hauling the crates myself."

She saw him wince under her sharp tone.

"I know you are, but you're more capable repairing the speeder than I am. We'll be out of here before the verbs catch hold of our scent."

His grin appeared somewhere in his explanation and Aayla sighed, sensing him try to pacify her irritation. "Alright. I'll let you convince me _one more_ time," she yielded, and Kit nodded his thanks.

She snatched the sealant from him that he eagerly handed back. "But don't think you can get away every time with that smile of yours."

Kit's smile widened. "I wasn't aware that I did."

* * *

"_Ryn, the crates are in storage room Aurek and Besh in Hallway Everlily," _Aayla's voice told him over the comm.

"Gotcha."

As he stepped off the lift on the second floor, ignoring the mounted cameras on every corner, the putrid stench of decaying flesh reached his nostrils and he froze in place. He reached out with the Force feeling for life signatures; large, bipedal ones. There were two bumps nearby, just around a corner, but they hadn't smelled him yet, which was good.

Kit summoned the Force around him, trying his best to mask his presence and most importantly, the scent of his blood. As silently as he could, he crept to the corner, poking just his head to look around it at the next corridor. Mutilated pieces of meat and bone that he could only assume once made up living people littered the hallway.

"Which hallway again?" he whispered.

"_Hang on."_

Perhaps the spice was in a different corridor, one without vrblithers...and severed arms.

_"Everlily,"_ Aayla responded.

He looked up at the sign, reading what she had just said. "Of course it would be this hallway," he whispered to himself as he streaked across to the other end of the corridor. From the position he was at now, he could see the open storeroom where he picked up the pair of signatures. They were out of his field of vision, but the sound of crates crashing told him both were inside.

With a quick glance around to make sure a camera wasn't pointed at him, he flicked the lock with the Force and the door sealed. Almost immediately, the creatures pounded on the door, the sound of their claws scraping on the metal drowning out their angry growls. If the creaking groans of stressed metal meant anything, Kit knew the reinforced security doors would not hold against the powerful predators for long.

Jogging down the hallway, he carefully stepped around the mangled remains to the other storage room, which, luckily, was Besh and not Aurek.

_"_The code please, Jaayza"

_"7385."_

Kit punched in the code on the security lock and the door opened. He wasted no time walking amongst the neatly stacked crates of various sizes and colors to locate the ones he sought. The lights in the room were filtered so that everything was cast in a dim, reddish hue, no doubt to protect any spice that was photoactive; it made his search for red crates filled with sansanna more difficult. Then in the corner, he spotted ten crates stacked five high that looked like what he saw in the datapad. After opening one and examining the contents, he reported his find to Aayla.

"I found the crates."

_"Great. How many?"_

"There are ten here. I can carry..." he tested the weight of one, "...four at a time."

Growls and bangs from the other storage room drowned out Aayla's reply.

_"What was that?"_ she asked, hearing the noise over the comm.

"Nothing," he assured her.

**-[{-}]-**

_"How's the bike coming along?"_ Kit's voice asked that she knew was meant to distract her from her previous question.

She glanced down at her work, which was almost done. The metal was almost fully bent, and after, she'd apply the metal sealant.

"Alright so far. I'm bending the metal back right now. Almost done."

_"Good,"_ he grunted. _"I found a gravsled here and I've loaded four crates already. Give me two more trips and I'll be up."_

She heard the growls in the background again and a bad feeling washed over her. It was foolish to have let Kit retrieve the crates with an open wound.

"When I'm done up here, I head down to help you."

_"Shouldn't be a problem. I'm almost done down here. I'm heading back for the last two crates."_

"Just be careful," she told him.

_"I always am."_

She heard the grin in his voice, and couldn't help but put on one of her own as she grabbed the can of sealant.

**-[{-}]-**

In the storage room, he stacked the last two crates and bent to lift them until he saw droplets of black liquid splash across their covers. His eyes followed the dark stream that trickled down his arm up to his wound from which his blood, appearing black under the crimson light of the storage room, was flowing though.

He silently cursed himself for not noticing it earlier, how hefting the crates made his hearts pump the blood faster through his body, or more importantly, how long ago the banging on the door had stopped.

Kit jerked around to look at the Aurek storage room door, only to find it ripped open and stare at the two creatures he had locked in earlier blocking his only exit. He stood stock-still, his mind racing just like his hearts, sending the scent of his blood across the three meter distance that separated him and the verbs. Slowly he reached for the blaster at his hip, feeling the two pairs of eyes follow his hand to the butt.

The moment he pulled it loose, the two creatures pounced.

He jumped up to a column of crates and used the Force to send another flying at the vrblither he had fired at; movement under the crates told him his plan didn't work.

The second creature followed him, climbing the crates to reach him. It nearly did, and he barely dodged the hand-sized talons slashing the air where he stood.

Kit managed a quick shot at its shoulder; the predator howled an angry snarl at the pain, but climbed higher still, it's hunger overpowering its fear. With an aerial leap, he flew off the crates and landed outside the storage room.

He sprinted down the hallway to the waiting gravlift, the angry hulking masses of muscle and talons close behind him.

**-[{-}]-**

She had gathered all her tools and stood waited on the platform for Kit to respond.

_"Ryn, come in."_ If he didn't answer, she would head down there; her blaster was already in her hand.

"Here."

She turned around to find him on an open gravsled rising up from the other side of the railing.

"What happened?"

"They're on to us." He panted, landing the gravsled next to the speeder bike which he eyed worriedly. "Is the bike fixed?"

"Yes, but we need to wait two more minutes for the metal to bond completely."

Kit grabbed four crates off the sled and loaded them onto the bike's cargo beds.

"We don't have two minutes. We'll have to hope it holds."

Aayla helped him strap the crates down. "Only eight?"

"Yes." he huffed, still catching his breath, "I couldn't get the last two, but this is more than enough."

There was a screech of metal down the catwalk of the platform and the doors of the repulsorlift peeled open.

"We need to leave _now_," Kit jumped onto the bike's seat, and Aayla followed behind him.

As Kit powered up the bike, she saw two verbs pushed their way through the lift doors, making their way down the catwalk to them.

The speeder jerked up off the platform, and Kit squeezed the throttle to compensate for the rapid liftoff. The hum of the engines slowed and the bike dropped back onto the floor.

"Blast!" Kit cursed and Aayla knew they had burned out.

She glanced at the creatures steadily coming closer to them, the clanking of their talons on the catwalk's metal grating becoming more audible over the revving whine of the bike's engines.

"Kit..." she whispered.

He scrambled with the controls, trying to get the engine restarted. "I know," he said through gritted teeth, held shut by pain from her increasingly tightening grip on his waist and panic at the creature's steadily diminishing distance to them.

The verbs were four meters away now.

"Got it!" he yelled as the engines flared and the bike rose. He squeezed the throttle lightly and the engines stayed on this time.

"Too late!"

Aayla pulled Kit's blaster from the holster on his thigh and shot at the nearest verb.

It flew backwards in a flurry of bolts, but the other pressed towards them, arm already in a deadly swing. She shot at its shoulder and the verb retreated, but not before its talons sliced into Kit's arm.

The bike rocked as he grunted in pain, but they rose higher off the platform and up through the opening they came in.

As the warehouse's light dimmed to the Undercity's faint gloom, Aayla kept Kit's blaster ready, prepared for a volley of shots that might greet them when they flew out of the opening; they didn't come.

"They're not shooting us."

"Let's not wait around for them to start." Kit hit the throttle, gunning them back in the direction they came from earlier.

As they sped away from the warehouse, the distance between them, the vrblithers, and the armed men growing further, the two Jedi felt themselves relax, if slightly.

"Careful," she reminded him, "we have to fly slow, or we'll burn out again."

He loosened his grip on the throttle, held down reflexively by pain.

"Burn out or bleed out," he smiled grimly, as they rose up to the streets of the Vertical City. "I can't decide which is worse."

* * *

Their ride back to the ship took longer than their ride to the warehouse, but that was expected with the cargo and damage the bike sustained.

"Well that was easy, wouldn't you say?" Kit sighed, collapsing onto a crate in the _Dancer's_ cargo hold.

For security, they had dragged Vesik's bike into the hold as they caught their breath from their adventure.

A medkit from the ship's head in hand, Aayla came back into the room, a scowl prominent on her features.

"If you call blood-thirsty predators and broken speeder bikes easy," she answered and settled on a crate beside him.

The Jedi Master gave a small grin and attempted a shrug, stopping mid-gesture as he winced in pain at the large wounds bleeding generously.

"Or having your arm sliced open," he grimaced.

"Here," she handed him a grav-press bandage cuff from the medkit. "We'll see how bad it is when the blood flow slows."

He glanced at his wound. "It doesn't look too bad. I'm sure some dermaseal would be fine."

"No it won't," she scolded the Jedi Master. "It could be infected from the creature's talons."

He held up his free hand in defeat, a slight chuckle escaping him. "Alright. You win. I'll take the cauterizer."

She smiled in victory, taking the laser tool out of the medkit, then paused for a moment, thinking.

"If you'll allow me, I'd like to try something before I use the cauterizer."

He looked up inquisitively at her question. She was a bit apprehensive and nervous to him.

"Master Saa taught me a very basic healing method. I've never tried it on a wound this deep before, but I should heal it partially."

"Of course," he nodded eagerly, "unless, you _prefer_ burning my wound closed."

"Not really."

Kit removed the press. "Then go ahead."

She gently placed a hand over the torn flesh, careful not to press it in further.

"Alright," she exhaled nervously, "I'm no Healer but I'll do the best I can."

He gave her a reassuring smile and saw her eyes close in meditation. A swirl of Force flowed around her, which she directed at his wound. Instantly, he felt the calming aura her hand exuded as well as the healing of his injury, if slightly. It stopped after a few seconds, and she gave a shy smile.

"Sorry, that's all I can do."

"No, no, that's perfectly fine. It feels exponentially greater, and perhaps it's better that the wound heals on its own. The cameras in the warehouse certainly recorded our encounter. It might appear unusual if it was gone in a few hours."

"Now you're just making me feel better."

Truly he was not. He was quite impressed with her ability to try a difficult method that Healers took years to master.

A slow grin formed on his face. "No of course not, but I seem to remember your eagerness to use the cauterizer?"

She grinned as well. "I'm only thinking of what's best. You don't want a wound that big to get an infection."

Kit cocked his head. "Or perhaps you wish to cause me more pain. To spite me for insisting I retrieve the crates with an open wound."

"Either way," she said, powering on the cauterizer, "I _did_ tell you to fix the bike."

"I will acknowledge that," he hissed when the laser soldered his torn flesh shut.

Aayla looked up apologetically at the Nautolan's pain. "Sorry, it's on the highest setting because the wound is so deep."

"Don't worry," he grunted. "It's not nearly as bad as a lightsaber burn on full power."

She stopped the cauterizer when she saw the pale scars of seared flesh below the fresh gash and delicately ran her fingers over it.

He saw concern in her eyes. "It's from Obi-Wan when we were on Cestus."

"You were sparring on full power?" she asked, surprised. Jedi normally set their lightsabers to a lower setting when sparring with others, a common courtesy, so no one unnecessarily lost a limb.

"Performing," he corrected, "For a display that was meant to convince the governing body."

Kit saw her raise her eyebrows, as if the word didn't quite describe the situation in its entirety, but she didn't say anything more and continued sealing his wound.

He handed her dressing bandages.

"And did it?" She peered up at him expectantly before taking the dressings and returning back to her work.

"Yes. Originally, Obi-Wan was meant to slice off my arm, but we thought it was a bit dramatic," he said, his small grin growing to a cheeky smile.

"Sometimes," she said, shaking her head, "I don't get your humor, Master Jedi."

Aayla ripped the bandage more roughly than necessary, and Kit winced at the pain.

"_That_ was to spite you, though," she told him, closing the medkit and standing up to put it away, "For charming me to change my mind and send you to get the spice with an open wound."

"Very well, though, I would call it persuading-"

"And for using Vesik's horrendous pet name," she tossed over her shoulder as she disappeared down the corridor. "Don't think I forgot about that."

He grinned again. "I was hoping that you did."

Standing up from the crate also, Kit flexed his arm, testing his tolerance to the throbbing lances of pain.

"We'd better get these to Fel," he told her when she came back, gesturing to the crates on the bike.

She nodded and he flipped on their holocomm.

"Fel, we've got your crates," he told the miniature hologram of the Zabrak when it appeared. The plain look of surprise on his face made it evident that he had not expected them to survive.

"How many?"

"Eight."

If the Zabrak had had eyebrows, they would have gone up even higher on his horned head.

"Very good," he nodded, crossing his arms, "Like I said I would be, I'm impressed."

Both he and Aayla smirked their thanks.

Fel seemed to converse with someone outside of the holocomm's range before returning back to them. "Run into any problems down there?"

Kit shrugged, indirectly drawing attention to his wounded shoulder. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

Fel chuckled. "I bet that hurts like hell," he pointed to his arm.

"A bit more than that actually."

He heard laughter off-screen.

The Zabrak broke into an amused half-smile. "I guess I was right to hire you two. Ryn, Jaayza, consider me your new employer. I'll be there shortly to get those crates off your hands."

After the image disappeared, Kit smiled broadly at Aayla. "It seems we're in."

* * *

_**Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you guys think.**_

_**Some things to ponder for next chapter:**_

_**1. So, our dynamic duo has been hired by smugglers. Will things get worse or better?**_

_**2. What do you guys think of Vesik? Will he create more problems for them or help them?**_


End file.
